


fightin' for my trust (and you won't back down)

by LullabyKnell



Category: Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018)
Genre: Background Jefferson Davis/Rio Morales, Canon - Movie, Canon Compliant, Character Study, Communication, Complete, Conversations, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family, Family Bonding, Family Feels, Family Secrets, Father-Son Relationship, Fatherhood, Friendship/Love, Gen, Gen Work, Grief/Mourning, Happy Ending, Hopeful Ending, I Love You, Identity Reveal, Implied/Referenced Canon-Typical Violence, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Jefferson Davis Gives Good Hugs, Marvel Trumps Hate 2019, Miles Morales Needs a Hug, POV Jefferson Davis, POV Third Person Limited, Parent-Child Relationship, Parenthood, Post-Canon, Post-Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse (2018), Relationship Study, Secret Identity, Slow Burn, Wordcount: 10.000-30.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:53:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 26,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25070443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LullabyKnell/pseuds/LullabyKnell
Summary: It's not easy to be the parent of a teenager. It'sdefinitelynot easy to be the parent of a teenage superhero. It would probably be at leastslightlyeasier, however, if Jefferson Davis actually knew that he was the parent of a teenage superhero.A post-canonSpider-Versefic in which Jefferson and Miles determinedly fumble their way through a loving father-son relationship, despite recent family losses and ongoing daily struggles.Jefferson Davis just wants his son to be okay.
Relationships: Jefferson Davis & Miles Morales
Comments: 371
Kudos: 834
Collections: Marvel Trumps Hate 2019





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was written for the 2019 Marvel Trumps Hate event! Thank you again to my bidder for participating and for working with me! 
> 
> This fic takes place after the events of the movie but _before_ the Spider-People are casually travelling between the alternate universes, as is very briefly suggested at the end of the movie, because I wanted to write about Miles' parents (specifically Jefferson) unknowingly supporting their son through his independent secret superhero activity.
> 
> This fic also takes place purely in Movie Canon, because I'm mostly unfamiliar with the comics or any video games. Superhero comics and cartoons, though they can and often do deal with complicated themes, often take place in a simpler and much more idealistic version of our world, especially animated feature films oriented towards a younger audience like 2018's _Spider-Verse_. This fic references the existence of racism, homophobia, etc., and contains brief references to cyber-bullying, temporary injury, canonical minor character death, and an off-screen murder-suicide, but beyond that I don't think there's anything potentially disturbing in here. 
> 
> Sometimes you just want to think it's going to be okay.

“So,” Jefferson begins. 

“So…?” Rio echoes from the washroom. 

Jefferson leans back against the headboard of their bed, fingers worrying at the sheets over his lap. “Miles seems like he’s doing pretty… well… lately. At school, I mean.” 

“Mmhm, I think he’s really settling in,” Rio agrees distantly, turning on a tap. 

“His grades have really picked up.” 

“Mmhm.” 

“He talks about that roommate of his now. They’re getting along.” 

“Ganke-who-never-sleeps, mmhm,” Rio answers, between sounds of brushing her teeth. She spits. The tap turns off. “He sounds like a nice kid.” 

“Yeah. Sounds like Miles is making real friends in his classes too,” Jefferson adds optimistically. Miles mentions names now when he talks to them; Miles  _ talks  _ to them again now. “He’s making time for his friends from his old school too, isn’t he? They’re still hanging out?” 

“Yeah, I think they played basketball last week.” 

“That’s good. I know he misses them. We should, uh, we should let him know he doesn’t have to hang out with us every time he comes home.” Though Jefferson already feels like he doesn’t get to see his son enough as it is. He knows learning how to do long-distance, adult-style friendships can be tough on kids. “He still has to hang out with us sometimes, of course, but we could… we could tell him it’s alright to have them here for dinner or something.” 

“So long as he knows he’s gotta warn us first,” Rio agrees, switching off the bathroom lights, padding into the bedroom in a towel, and getting dressed for bed. “Unless he wants to be the one doing the cooking and the shopping. I’m not doing last-minute meal prep for five teenagers.” 

“Yeah. Force him to use that phone of his,” Jefferson says jokingly. 

“Mmhmm.” 

“Make sure he’s still got our numbers.” 

_ “Mmhmm.  _ Jeff, what’s up?” 

“What? Why would- why would something be up?” 

Rio throws her towel over the door and crosses her arms over her chest, standing over him with raised eyebrows. “Why don’t you get to where you’re going with this?” 

“...Do you think he’s really okay?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“He’s doing really well, but…” 

“But…?” 

Jefferson sighs, gesturing vaguely. “He and Aaron were close, right?” 

“Right.” 

“And they were only getting closer when Aaron died.”  _ As much as Aaron let himself get close to anyone with his… lifestyle,  _ Jefferson thinks. “I know teenagers can… get to that age where they think they gotta be tough or… or crave alternative examples of adulthood besides their parents and teachers, because we’re authority figures.” 

“Okay.” 

“It’s normal! It’s natural! It’s a part of growing up to look up to the people  _ ‘stickin’ it to The Man’.  _ And I’m  _ The Man  _ in more ways than one, you know, with my job, so it makes sense that there are some… you know… exploratory teenage things that Miles might have felt more comfortable expressing to Aaron instead. You know, someone who does- didn’t have a professional or parental obligation to tell him off for risky stunts.” 

“Right.” 

Jefferson has been in the position of ( _ gently,  _ most of the time, hopeful) pointing out his son’s mistakes for years, because it’s a parent’s job to teach kids when it’s okay to cross the street, when hands have to be washed, and when shoelaces have to be tied. Early parenthood is all about that sort of thing.  _ “Don’t eat dirt”  _ segues into  _ “don’t listen to your music so damn loud”  _ before a man knows it. It’s become a habit that hard to break as his boy becomes a young man, who naturally chafes at being told to do things he was already going to do and at being warned not to do stupid things he wasn’t ever planning on doing. 

“I mean, I don’t  _ enjoy  _ having to tell him off for his natural urge to make a mark on this city with his art,” Jefferson explains to Rio. “I  _ like  _ his art! I think it’s great! I don’t enjoy potentially accidentally discouraging his interest in art due to its association with vandalism!” 

“Uh huh.” 

All that parenting has set up a barrier between them that Jefferson didn’t really notice until he kept running into it headlong. His frustration got the better of him more than once and sometimes still does. Parenting’s gotta change as the kid changes. Miles isn’t like a foot tall and trying to get himself run over anymore. Well… mostly. 

Jefferson maybe should have worked a little harder on the shoe-tying thing. 

“I know I can’t reasonably be upset with Miles for not confiding in me if I haven’t first made it clear that it’s  _ safe  _ to confide in me,” Jefferson says, because that’s what the books say, because they’ve had versions of this conversation before. “I know I’ve got to establish a-” He raises his hands to make air-quotations. “- _ ‘safe environment for vulnerability’  _ if I want to make sure Miles is as okay as he says he is, and that takes time, but… do you think he’s alright?” 

He looks up at Rio, still watching him with her arms crossed. 

“Yes,” she says. “I think he’s alright.” 

“Rio…” 

She spreads her hands and sighs. “He’s settling into his new school, he’s got all his friends, and he’s got us. If he needs us, then he knows he can come to us. Remember that night, early into the school year, when he came home without warning?” 

“Yeah.” 

It’d be hard to forget that night. 

Sometimes Jefferson still wonders what exactly had Miles all shaken up. Did he hear about what happened before it was on the news? Had Parker’s death already spread through social media or by face-chatting or whatever the kids do these days? 

“He knows he can come to us when he needs a safe place,” Rio says, sitting on the bed beside him, putting her hand on his leg. “You’ve told him that.  _ I’ve  _ told him that. We told him that before the funeral. We’re going to  _ keep  _ telling him that. Beyond that, it’s up to him to decide when or  _ if  _ he needs to talk to us.” 

“Yeah,” Jefferson says reluctantly. “He could also talk to a teacher.” 

“Mmhm. They’ve seen this sort of thing before.” 

“He could talk to that roommate of his or any of his new friends.” 

“People his own age.” 

“He just… he  _ should  _ talk to someone, right? It’s not good to not talk about it,” Jefferson says uncertainly, because that’s his biggest issue here. He and Miles haven’t really talked about Aaron at all yet. Not really. Not  _ deeply.  _ Miles has been so quiet about it. 

He can’t be sure that Miles is really okay. 

“He’ll talk when he’s ready, Jeff,” Rio says, patting his leg again, before she crawls over him to flop down on her side of the bed. “It’s not good to force people to talk about things either,” she says, pointedly, getting under the covers and reaching for the book on her bedside table. “Sometimes people need time to understand these things for themselves before they can talk to anyone else.” 

“Yeah. Yeah, I guess.” 

But sometimes  _ “when he’s ready”  _ sounds a lot like  _ “maybe never”.  _

Jefferson had a few relationships in his life - friendships, family members, partnerships - where they just didn’t talk about certain things. No feelings allowed. No, they all had to be  _ “tough guys”  _ and the phrase  _ “emotional vulnerability”  _ wasn’t on their radar. Arguments could never end with real apologies - no open communication, which carried a shame that never made sense. Unfortunately, Jefferson knows all too well that teenage boys who feel like they’ve got something to prove, in a world that’s not always kind to men who make themselves vulnerable, can fall into these categories more often than not. 

Jefferson doesn’t want to put a ball in Miles’ corner and never get it back. It takes two to make sure a pair of people don’t drift apart. It doesn’t matter how much Jefferson doesn’t want that to happen if the people around him don’t care enough to make a move. 

He doesn’t want to force Miles to talk, but… 

It’d be real nice if he heard Miles say some things back more often. 

He wishes he knew how. 

Jefferson comes back to himself and looks beside him, where Rio is leaning back against the pillows with her eyes closed, her book on her chest. This happens a lot, after a long, hard shift; she’ll pick up her book and fall asleep before she’s turned five pages. Jefferson picks up the book, puts the bookmark in the right place, and leans over her to put it back on her bedside table. He doesn’t want to listen to her complain about crumpled pages later. 

“Hey,” Rio says softly. “I was reading that.” 

She’s smiling, though, and her eyelids are already drooping shut again as Jefferson presses his lips to her forehead. He falls back onto his own pillows, and in the gentle dark of their bedroom, where he’s always been able to say anything he felt needed saying, he forces himself to ask the question he’s been thinking over for days. 

“...Do you think it would help Miles to go to therapy?” 

Rio opens her eyes and blinks at him tiredly. 

“Just so he has someone to talk to, if he needs it. A professional.” 

“He’ll talk when he’s  _ ready,  _ Jeff,” Rio says, reaching out to pat him on the cheek. 

Jefferson leans into her touch, but it doesn’t help the directionless concern of not knowing whether or not Miles - his  _ son,  _ his  _ boy  _ \- is really alright. No matter how well Miles is doing right now, Jefferson can’t forget the disappearing act that happened right around Aaron’s death, when Miles was having so much trouble with his new school. That time felt like it was scaring years off Jefferson’s life. 

He remembers standing outside a locked door, not knowing if Miles would ever really talk to him again. Not knowing if this was where they’d just… drift apart. Forever. 

Forcing Miles to talk would be a mistake, yes, but… Jefferson doesn’t want to be the kind of parent who lets their kid drift away. He doesn’t want to let go and never get Miles back. What if he lets go and there are no second chances? 

“Should we let him know that it’s an option, though? If he doesn’t want to talk to us?” 

“I think… I think he might take it badly if you go up to him and tell him you think he’s dealing badly with his grief and needs therapy,” Rio says finally, and moves her hand to his lips to cut off any interruption. “And  _ yes,  _ I  _ know  _ deciding to get therapy is not a sign that there is anything wrong with anyone. It can be done for support and advice from a professional, especially during high stress periods, because mental health is just as important as physical health -  _ you  _ know that and  _ I  _ know that - and while I know you wouldn’t try to  _ say  _ it like that…” 

Jefferson takes Rio’s hand in his own. “You think Miles would hear it like that.” 

Rio shrugs. “He’s a teenage boy. They’re sensitive.” 

Jefferson chuckles. “Yeah.” 

“Is… Jeff, have you  _ noticed  _ anything that makes you think Miles needs counselling?” 

“...No,” Jefferson admits. 

“Do  _ you  _ want to go to therapy?” 

“What?” 

Rio turns fully on her side to face him. “I’m serious, Jeff. Do you want to go to therapy again? Do you want to talk to someone about Aaron?” 

“...You think I’m projecting?” 

“I don’t know. I’m just asking,” Rio says gently, “because it sounds like  _ you  _ want to talk to someone about Aaron. And maybe about Miles.” 

Jefferson snorts. 

“Just a little,” Rio says, smiling. “You know that you can  _ always  _ talk to me.” 

“I know.” 

“Preferably not when I might fall asleep on you.” 

“Oh, but that’s  _ never  _ happened.” 

Rio giggles, nudging him with her foot. “But if you want to go back to therapy for a little bit, to talk to a professional again, then that would be okay. I know making the arrangements for the funeral was stressful. We work high-stress jobs to begin with and I know yours has been a little more stressful ever since… you know…” 

“Do you think I need to?” 

“I’m asking if you  _ want  _ to,” Rio says, squeezing his hand. “It sounds like you want to talk to Miles more than anyone else, but you could talk to someone about how to talk to Miles if you wanted. You could set an example for him by showing him it’s okay to seek that kind of help, so he can decide if he wants to do the same thing.” She shrugs. “Show him that it’s not something to be embarrassed about.” 

“Yeah.” 

Jefferson wouldn’t mind getting a chance to lay out the jumble of thoughts and feelings in him. He wouldn’t mind an objective opinion. Though it’s hard, even now, to shake the societal impression that people only go to therapy because they couldn’t hold it together on their own. 

He probably needs to talk to someone who  _ isn’t  _ Miles about Aaron’s… lifestyle. 

_ Lifestyle.  _ Damn, he wishes he had a better word for it.  _ Work,  _ maybe? 

The funeral was a private affair. Quiet. Stunned. 

“But…” Rio adds slowly. 

“But?” 

“If you want to talk to Miles, then you could always just  _ tell him  _ you want to talk to him about Aaron… about how he’s feeling,” Rio says. “Ask him when he’d be okay to talk about it. Let him prepare. But just… talk to him when he thinks he’d be ready.” 

“...It sounds easy when you put it like that.” 

“If you want to have a conversation, you have to start it,” Rio reminds him. 

It occurs to Jefferson that someone can’t pass a ball back if they don’t know it’s in their corner to begin with. What’s painfully obvious to one person isn’t always clear to the people around them. The problem sounds obvious when Rio says it like that. 

“Tell him specifically what you want to talk about,” Rio adds, giving his hand one last squeeze, before she lets go, yawning widely enough to make her jaw crack. “Don’t make him think he’s going to be doing all the talking; he should know he won’t be the only one opening up. Don’t leave him hanging with any of that  _ ‘I want to talk to you’  _ or  _ ‘we need to talk’  _ stuff or you’re going to scare him.” 

“Scare him?” Jefferson repeats. 

“He’s a teenage boy,” Rio says sleepily. “They’re easily scared.” 

“...Yeah,” Jefferson agrees, pressing one last kiss to her cheek. “I remember.” 

~ 

“Alright,” Jefferson says to Rio on the next morning that Miles is meant to visit home. “Let’s do this.” 

“You got this,” Rio tells him, kissing him goodbye on his way. 

“I got this,” he agrees. “I  _ got this.”  _ Before he swoops back down to kiss her again, which makes her giggle before she shoves him towards his car so she can go to the hospital and save lives. “Let’s go do our best to be heroes, baby.” 

He goes to work with an optimistic confidence and carries it protectively through the workday. 

His name is Jefferson Davis. 

He’s a cop in Brooklyn with the PDNY. 

And for the last 15-ish years he’s been navigating his way through being the one and only husband of Rio Morales and father of Miles Morales. 

His life is pretty good. He does his best to protect and serve the people of this city, he does his best to do the best by the love of his life, and his best to be a good father to the brightest kid he’s ever known. (He could’ve done better at being a good brother, probably, given that his brother worked for a supervillain who killed him, but he can’t really do anything about that now.) 

After everything, Jefferson likes to think he’s doing a pretty good job. He likes to think that he’s figured things out. No matter how many surprises life deals out to him, he always finds a way to handle them, because there’s no one else who can do what he does. The only person who can continue to be everything that Jefferson Davis is is him. 

And today, he’s going to tell his son that he’s going to be seeing a therapist. 

He gets through the workday. He’s definitely had worse days. It’s all been a little different on the job since Spider-Man- since  _ Peter Parker  _ died and some days that feeling sticks out a little more than others. After 10 years, they all got a little used to having him slinging his way through the city as he pleased, whether they liked it or not, and the world’s been a little different without him. The Kingpin case with that whole supercollider business has been a mess - a rabbit hole that keeps on getting worse on them - but they’re all muddling through it. 

The new Spider-Man is… something they’re still getting used to too. 

Jefferson sees the kid, actually, sometime around lunch, after taking a statement from a couple more disgruntled and/or frightened Alchemax ex-employees. The new Spider-Man is a small black figure swinging through the skyscrapers and landing on some high-story windows with a carefulness that’s sort of strange to see. Jefferson stops on the sidewalk to watch. 

The old Spider-Man - Parker - used to swing through the streets with the sort of careless ease that came from years of practice. He’d shoot his webs without looking, it seemed like, and swing without looking. Like he knew the city better than anyone else ever could from up there. He’d flip through the air almost lazily and catch himself at the last moment of a fall, all relaxed, like he had nothing to fear when he leaped. Like he knew he’d always land on his feet no matter how hard he flung himself at the ground. 

Not to say, of course, that there aren’t  _ many  _ videos online of the late Spider-Man getting hit by drones, accidentally swinging into lamp posts or billboards, and having web-slinging malfunctions of some kind or another. These aforementioned years of practice have been caught on camera and turned into video compilations and posted to the internet for hits or likes (or whatever form of clout the kids are after these days). They’re pretty long, both the compilations of accidents and the ones of the guy’s “sickest flips”. Ten years is a long time and there are a lot of cellphones and security cameras in this city. 

Miles actually likes to watch some of those old Spider-Man videos on his phone. Jefferson once saw him making gestures with his hands, like he was mimicking the onscreen motions, pretending to be a superhero like a little kid might. Miles nearly leapt out of his skin and scrambled to turn his phone off once Jefferson cleared his throat. 

Jefferson leans on the top of his squad car and watches the new Spider-Man perch on the side of a skyscraper, a little dark spot crouched on a vertical glass window nearly a hundred feet in the air. He looks so small and Jefferson knows for a fact that the kid doesn’t look much bigger up close. 

The new kid doesn’t swing like the old Spider-Man. He swings like he’s still learning the layout of the streets, still learning where to shoot his webs, still learning how to land without hurting himself. He looks where he shoots and looks where he swings (most of the time, at least, though there’s a new viral video online of the new Spider-Man upholding his predecessor’s legacy by getting smacked midair by a drone). The new kid doesn’t follow any of the patrol routes that Parker developed over the years, not more than partially and not on any sort of schedule at least. Right now, it looks like the kid is just sort of swinging around for the hell of it. Jefferson watches the little black figure jump and flip dizzyingly through the air with an energy that suggests the kid’s really just having fun today. 

It’s kinda cute. 

Jefferson shakes himself and stands up straight. Cute or not, the kid shouldn’t be engaging in vigilante activity, obviously, especially not when he’s probably supposed to be in school. By the way the kid talks, by the times he’s out swinging (pretty much always outside of school hours), and by his size (too damn small), it’s widely assumed that the new Spider-Man is almost certainly a teenager. Too damn young. Not that being an adult would excuse his vigilante activities anymore than it did Parker’s. 

Parker was only a teenager himself when he started being Spider-Man. It’s crazy to think about. He was only 26 when he died and he’d been out there for ten years. He would have been only  _ 16  _ when he started throwing himself headlong into all sorts of danger just because he had the powers and the will to interfere. 

As the new kid swings off between skyscrapers, Jefferson unlocks his squad car and slides into the driver’s seat, waiting for his partner to come back with lunch from the food truck across the way. They’ve got paperwork waiting for them back at the station. 

If the new kid’s got any relation to Parker, Jefferson thinks, they’ve yet to figure it out. Spider-Man’s widow, Ms. Mary Jane Watson, and his aunt, Mrs. May Parker, claim they don’t know the kid. Parker and Watson didn’t have any children (they’re too damn young to have had a teenager anyway). Parker didn’t have any siblings. And… well… with the way the new kid talks, with where in the city the new kid is most often spotted hanging out, some people are figuring that the new kid… probably isn’t  _ white  _ under that mask. 

It’s not clear if the new Spider-Man and the old Spider-Man knew each other, though some like to claim the kid is obviously the sidekick stepping into his late mentor’s shoes. The new kid didn’t pop up until Parker was dead. There’s no real evidence they’d even met. The kid popped up from nowhere and it looks like he’s on his own. 

It’s a brand new New York City. 

They’re all still getting used to the differences. 

~

Jefferson makes it home on time, having been determined not to be held up at the station for anything if he could help it. He made it clear to his coworkers that he was expecting his boy home for dinner today. He also made it clear that he wasn’t going to be missing that or be so much as five minutes late even if he had to call in favors to get there. And for once, for  _ once,  _ disaster didn’t strike, and he signed off without issues. 

Some administrators wave him off at the end of his shift with a chorus of amused  _ “good luck” _ s and  _ “go get ‘em, Super-Dad” _ s. “Seeing your own kid regularly isn’t being a superhero!” Jefferson called back, to laughter. 

Miles is already home from school when Jefferson comes through the door. 

“Hey, Miles!” 

“Dad! Hey!” 

Miles leaps up from the dining table and slams into Jefferson for a hug while he’s still putting away his keys. It’s completely without prompting and Jefferson couldn’t be happier for it. It’s also kind of like getting tackled by a short brick wall. 

“Oof! Miles, you doing weights in gym now?” 

“Uh, a little bit?” 

Jefferson wraps his arms around his son and squeezes back. “Good for you.” 

Miles isn’t just talking back to them now. He hugs a little more freely these days. He says  _ “I love you back”  _ too without being prompted (not that Jefferson’s pressuring him anymore, which he recognizes now was a horrible mistake even if he meant well). It’s good, though it hurts a little to think that it took such a heavy family loss for all of them to remember to hold on a little tighter and not to be embarrassed about it. 

They let go and Jefferson pats his son on the back. “It’s good to see you,” he says, feeling his smile from his head to his toes. “How’s school going these days? Is that roommate of yours finally sleeping yet?” 

Miles shakes his head. “Man, I  _ wish.”  _

Dinner is warm and delicious and full of anecdotes from their lives apart from each other. It’s good to have Miles back. He’s so bright; he lights up the whole house when he’s home. Rio is probably right: Miles seems alright. He talks about his classes passionately, sharing all the  _ cool  _ things he’s learned lately; he talks about what one classmate said at lunch yesterday and what another did during a presentation the day before; and he talks about looking forward to meeting up with some old school friends for a movie tomorrow. He sounds like he’s doing well. 

He sounds happy. 

It’s surprisingly easy to forget- well, not  _ forget,  _ but…  _ put aside _ the thing he’s been preparing himself to tell Miles all day. He’s spent most of the day thinking to himself,  _ “I’m gonna tell Miles I’m going to therapy. I’m gonna tell Miles I’m going to therapy. I’m gonna tell Miles I’m going back to therapy and ask him when it would be alright to have a serious talk sometime.”  _ That’s more or less what he walked in the door thinking nonstep. But it takes Rio giving him a pointed glance when Miles is in the kitchen for Jefferson to remember that he’s got something to say. 

Jefferson looks back at Rio helplessly. Now? He doesn’t want to bring down the mood. 

“Hey, Miles?” Rio calls, when Miles comes back with the dessert he bought from a friend-recommended place on his way home from school. 

“Yeah, I got plates and forks too.” 

“Thank you, Miles, but your dad’s got something he wants to tell you.” 

Miles sets everything down on the table and looks up with a slightly guarded expression. “Oh,” he says, and drops down into his seat. “Uh… what about?” 

“Nothing bad,” Rio assures him, then gives Jefferson another pointed look. 

Jefferson clears his throat and makes sure to look his son in the eye as he says, “I, uh, just wanted to let you know that, well, due to everything that’s happened lately… including how busy things have gotten at work lately… that I’m going to be seeing a therapist. Just as a sort of… check-in. Someone - a professional - to lay it all out with. You know how it is. So, uh, there’s nothing to be worried about or anything, if you hear me or your mom mention that.” 

“Oh,” Miles says again, his expression and shoulders relaxed. “That’s cool.” 

Jefferson smiles, despite the fact that his heart still feels like it’s going a mile a minute. “Yeah? Therapy’s cool with the kids these days?” 

“Yeah, well…” Miles shrugs, looking down at the table, before looking back up at Jefferson with a hesitant smile of his own. “I think so at least. I’m… uh… I’m proud of you, dad. For, uh, telling me? I hope it goes well for you.” 

Across the table, Rio is smiling widely at them. Jefferson understands why. 

They raised a good kid. 

“Thanks, Miles,” Jefferson says, before he claps his hands together because his heart can’t take much more of this. “Now, what’s this you’ve brought home for us?” 

Miles doesn’t say anything about getting therapy personally for the rest of the night. Jefferson doesn’t ask him if he thinks he might want to talk to a professional sometime. He doesn’t want to drop the suggestion on Miles now. They can give Miles some time to think about it and, if he ever looks like he  _ needs  _ it (which, right now, he definitely doesn’t), Jefferson can always remind him the opportunity is there. Rio is right that that’s all they can really do. 

Jefferson makes himself tell Miles he wants to have a talk about Aaron without Rio nudging him. He does it while they’re doing the dishes together afterwards, while Rio (who made dinner) is sitting on the sofa and relaxing by playing one of her phone games with a scowl. 

“Hey, uh, Miles?” 

“Yeah?” 

“If it’s cool with you… when you have the time… I’d, uh, really appreciate it if we could sit down and have a long chat sometime.” Jefferson puts the last dish on the rack to dry and turns to face Miles, who’s playing Tetris with the leftover containers going in the fridge. 

“...Sure? I guess.” Miles sounds nervous again. “What about?” 

He’s just gotta say it. 

“About your Uncle Aaron.” 

Miles doesn’t freeze, but he does say, “Oh.” 

“I know that you and him have always been pretty close, so…” 

“I didn’t know,” Miles says quickly. 

“I thought it’d- what?” 

Miles is hunched in on himself and looks nervously over his shoulder, before closing the fridge and turning around to face Jefferson. “I didn’t know he was… I mean...” 

_ Oh.  _

“I didn’t think you did,” Jefferson says firmly. 

No, he’d never imagined- how could Miles ever think that? Did Jefferson sound too accusatory when he remarked on their closeness? Even if he had thought Miles knew, he’d never  _ blame  _ Miles for any of it. He’s only a kid. He’d have been stuck between a rock and a hard place, forced to make a choice no one should have to make, if he’d known about the mask. And even Aaron knew to keep his… work… far away from his nephew. 

Miles looks Jefferson in the eyes and whatever he sees there -  _ thankfully  _ \- makes him relax inch by inch. He looks away. Maybe he’s embarrassed to have been so defensive? Maybe it’s guilt? Maybe he saw things that only make sense in hindsight. Jefferson gets that. 

Clearly, they need to talk about Aaron. 

“My brother and I didn’t always… get on,” Jefferson begins awkwardly. “We made choices. The both of us made choices. And we drifted apart because of those choices. But Aaron’s choices aren’t your fault… and they aren’t my fault. And, just as importantly, they don’t mean there weren’t some good times too. That there wasn’t… good- they don’t mean I stopped caring about him. I never stopped caring. Even after… everything that happened to us.” 

Miles looks him in the eye again. Jefferson is glad this isn’t happening with a closed door between them. He’s glad he doesn’t have to go off a shadow underneath the door. 

“It’d be nice if, when you’re ready, we could… try to have a talk sometime… about the good times… about the choices we made,” Jefferson explains gently. “About… whatever you want to talk about. It doesn’t have to be just one time or all at once or anything. But… I know you cared about him, Miles, and I did too. And that’s okay, you know?” 

“Yeah,” Miles says softly. “I know.” 

“Yeah, so… when you’re ready… it’d be cool if we could talk sometime.” 

Miles looks sad and hopeful and uncertain. He looks like he’s feeling too much to show. 

“Is this… for your therapy?” Miles tries. 

“No, I haven’t been yet. We have to set it up first and that can, uh, take a while. You gotta be comfortable with who you’re seeing, you know?” Jefferson clears his throat. “Nah. No, this, uh, is because I wanted to talk. I wanted you to know that if you’ve got anything you wanna say or anything you wanna hear, then I’m here for you, Miles. Just… say the word. You don’t have to if you don’t want to, but… I’d appreciate it if you did.” 

“...Okay.” 

“Okay?” 

“Yeah, okay,” Miles says, with more certainty. 

“You can, uh, think about it,” Jefferson tells him, finally putting aside the towel he’s been holding. “Why don’t we go watch that thing your mom wants to watch? And you can go out with your friends tomorrow and you can think about it even when you go back to school. And you can let me know and we can both look forward to it.” 

“Yeah, that sounds cool,” Miles agrees, with a wobbly sort of smile. “Thanks, Dad.” 

“No problem,” Jefferson promises. 

And, after a second’s thought, he opens up his arms. After a second’s thought, Miles walks right into them and hugs him tightly. He’s gotten so big. He’s gotten so strong too. But he’s still Jefferson’s boy and Jefferson hugs him to make sure he knows it. 

“I love you,” Jefferson says into Miles’ hair. 

“I know, Dad,” Miles says, holding on a little tighter. “I love you too.” 


	2. Chapter 2

_ “I told you,”  _ Rio says over the phone. 

Jefferson snorts, using his shoulder to hold his phone and free his hands for the paperwork his colleague’s just handed him. “Yeah, you told me,” he agrees. 

Though a part of him wants to check the text Miles sent him this morning again, the one saying that he’s coming home this weekend and he’d be down to talk then if Jefferson was cool with it. This is happening. This is happening. This is really happening. 

Jefferson is very cool with it. 

So cool. 

He is the coolest man who has ever lived. 

“Where do you think we should talk?” he asks Rio. “I’d be cool to talk in Miles’ bedroom, but I want to respect his space, you know? And I don’t know if our bedroom’s the right environment for it either if we want to keep things casual-like. I think it might make things feel a little too intimate just for a chat? I definitely think the dining table seems a little formal and it doesn’t really encourage casual emotional vulnerability-” 

Rio laughs at him.  _ “Just talk on the couch,”  _ she says.  _ “Don’t overthink it.”  _

“Hey, Davis!” one of his colleagues calls from across the room. 

Jefferson holds up a hand to hold them off. “One minute!” 

_ “Duty calls,”  _ Rio says amusedly. 

“Always does. Yeah, you’re probably right about the couch thing. Gotta keep it cool.” 

_ “I can step out for a bit if you need me to.”  _

“You don’t think he might take that as a sign it’s a serious talk?” 

_ “Nah. I might be at work anyway. Lisa wants me to-”  _

“Davis! Come check this out, man!” 

Jefferson sighs. “Rio, can you text me your shopping list? I’ll pick it up on my way home.” 

_ “I’ll do that. Go save the day, Jeff. Love you.”  _

“Go save the day. Love you too,” Jefferson says, blowing a kiss into his phone. 

“DAVIS- oh  _ holy shit!”  _

“That’s gonna leave a mark!” 

“Where the hell is this happening?” 

Jefferson hangs up and walks over to where his colleagues are gathered around someone’s desktop computer, in front of a cell phone video on a social media feed, with a little red dot and yellow text in the corner that says LIVESTREAM. He gets there just in time to see a thin and distant black figure pull itself out of a  _ smashed  _ car and shoot a web up into the air, just in time for a  _ food truck  _ to smash into the spot where he was standing a second ago. The person behind the cell phone camera is clearly down in the street and behind a column, as they zoom out and turn their cell phone towards a giant figure that’s very clearly a blockbuster supervillain. 

“Only in New York City, ladies and gentlemen,” mutters the person in front of the desktop. 

“Seriously, where is this happening?” 

Someone besides Jefferson is on their phone, scrolling social media. “All the way across town, looks like. We’re probably going to get orders any second now-  _ there we go!”  _

They do, in fact, get their orders to get out there that very second. It’s not great that social media is a step ahead of dispatch today, but that’s just how it goes in a city full of cell phones sometimes. As police officers, they’re not exactly equipped or trained to take down the sort of supervillains who throw food trucks around (Jefferson hopes that guy is alright and had the right insurance for that), but every bit of crowd and traffic control can save lives when this sort of thing is going down. 

Jefferson doesn’t get anywhere near the action this time. He redirects the crowds of people who are scared for their livelihoods, terrified for their loved ones, pissed off about the “inconvenience” of a supervillain interrupting their life, or just hoping to get a front row seat to the mess like these are street performers. Jefferson’s lost count of the number of times he’s argued with tourists who want to see Spider-Man in action over the years. 

Look, if they want a picture with Spider-Man, then for five bucks they can go take a picture with one of the Spider-Man street performers who hang out near Times Square or by the Statue of Liberty ferries or whatever! 

It happens with locals who don’t take these things seriously enough too, when they’re called to make these sorts of perimeters, but somehow the tourists tick him off that much more. Probably because of the number of times tourists have come up to him over the years and genuinely, indignantly, angrily asked him to make Spider-Man appear for them, like a random police officer (who does not, actually, approve of the superhero’s vigilante activities) could have somehow been able to make Parker appear for their photoshoots and sign autographs. It might also be because, just like Spider-Man, these tourists aren’t going to stick around for the months of clean-up and construction that always follow these blockbuster fights. 

He, uh, can’t always quite find it in himself to be ticked off about Spider-Man’s involvement here, though. Not like he used to be. 

Even when Parker was swinging about, Jefferson could reluctantly admit that there were countless situations that probably turned out for the better because of Spider-Man, even if the man made a bit of a mess in the process. Parker did some great things, just because he had the powers and the will to throw himself into danger. 

But now it’s the new kid’s turn. 

And Jefferson finds himself, while holding the perimeter, stuck with a cold sort of feeling in his stomach and a tightness in his chest. It takes him a little too long to figure out what he’s feeling is  _ fear.  _ That livestream of the new Spider-Man being thrown into a car sticks with him, replaying in the back of his head. All he’s got is the radio on his hip to know how things are going down in there and sometimes it doesn’t sound good. 

The new kid is small but tough, Jefferson knows, with a hefty collection of superpowers and the mind to use them. He knows the new kid took down the Kingpin and stopped whatever that “supercollider” was doing. He knows the kid can take a hit and keep on coming. Jefferson knows that. He’s seen it. The kid is a superhero - the kid is  _ Spider-Man  _ \- as much as the old one was. This kid can do pretty much everything Parker could do and possibly more, he’s sure. 

Anything Parker could do, this kid can do too. 

But he’s still a kid. 

And this… lifestyle… got Parker killed. 

Even though Parker was bigger and tougher and ten years more experienced. Even though Parker was apparently a genius and a good man and a loved man. Even though Parker was a self-made _superhero,_ even though he threw himself time and time again into danger like he had nothing to fear, there are some hits even a Spider-Man can’t come back from. 

And the new kid is a kid. 

If he can do pretty much everything Parker could do, then he can die too. 

Jefferson doesn’t really begin to relax again until they get the news that it’s over, that Spider-Man beat the bad guy and saved the day, and they can start mopping up the mess. And the twist of fear in Jefferson’s gut, as he does his job, turns to something he can’t put a finger on right away. He’s too busy to put a name to the sour feeling under his ribs. 

He puts a name to it after the day is over, after he’s gone home to an empty house, put the groceries away, and made and eaten dinner alone, because Rio’s been held up at work and Miles is still at school. It’s a little lonely. Jefferson’s got nothing for company but their texts confirming that they’re both alright. Nothing but a quick  _ “XOXO” _ text from Rio after he confirmed for her that he’s alright too. Though he doesn’t feel all that alright, sitting on the couch and watching the news tell him about the attack today. He’s kind of angry now. 

Because it looks like a lot of his colleagues and the media have fallen back on a “let’s let Spider-Man handle it and we’ll mop up in the aftermath” mindset. Even though the small black figure in all their footage is unmistakably a kid. The kid shouldn’t have to be keeping cars from smashing into skyscrapers or getting thrown across intersections. 

What happened to all those other heroes? From Kingpin’s supercollider? 

Why is the kid doing this  _ alone?  _

The news keeps replaying the footage of the new Spider-Man swinging away from the scene, after he’s confirmed that the supervillain is down for the count, and Jefferson could  _ swear  _ the kid is limping slightly before he shoots a web into the air. The reporters remark on it too. They also remark on the healing factor Parker was presumed to have, given how many beatings the old Spider-Man took over ten years and how none of them ever seemed to slow him down for long (at least until someone stopped him permanently). 

Jefferson finds he doesn’t really  _ care  _ if the kid’s got the superpowers to handle all this. Does the kid have the  _ people  _ in his life to help him handle this? What if the kid’s got some sort of internal injury? What then? Who’s going to check on him to make sure he’s alright? Maybe the kid  _ can  _ handle these sorts of things, but he definitely  _ shouldn’t  _ have to handle them, and Jefferson can only hope the kid isn’t handling all this alone. 

The reporters have already moved on to the damage to the city and delays that can be expected in the foreseeable future. Like it’s just another unusual day in New York City. 

Jefferson’s phone warbles with a text. 

It’s a heart emoji from Miles, in response to Jefferson’s own confirmation of being alright. 

Jefferson smiles at it, then sends one back. 

Then he leans back against the couch and sighs. It’s been a long day. 

~

When Miles comes home that weekend, when it comes time to talk about Aaron, Miles is all squared up about it, like he’s forcing himself to have this conversation. But he persists even when Jefferson reminds him that they don’t have to talk until he’s ready. Jefferson almost says that Miles never has to be ready and that they’ve got all the time in the world to talk, but… well, they don’t. They’re having this talk because they don’t have all the time in the world. 

It’s awkward at first, but most important talks are, especially the ones where a person feels obligated to show a little bit of whatever they’ve been keeping in their chest. Miles looks tense enough to leap out of his skin at any second. But Jefferson spots some old CDs on a bookshelf and starts talking about Aaron’s taste in music. Miles knows more about what Aaron was listening to lately (especially since a lot of Aaron’s stuff is being held as investigations continue), but Jefferson knows all about Aaron’s early and embarrassing favorites. It’s not hard to get Miles to burst into disbelieving laughter at Jefferson and Aaron’s bad teenage tastes. 

And it goes from there. 

They talk about the good times, mostly, maybe like they’re trying to remind themselves they happened. All the heartfelt sentiment and memories that probably should have gone into speeches at Aaron’s funeral, if they hadn’t all still been nearly sick with shock. Working for a supervillain doesn’t mean Aaron never took his nephew to the movies or concerts (especially ones Miles was too young to get in to see himself), like regular cool uncles do; it doesn’t mean Aaron and Jefferson weren’t once stupid kids trying to get into movies and concerts they were too young to see alone. They have that. They have good memories. 

Even if they don’t have explanations or apologies. 

Even if they don’t have Aaron. 

And it’s good. 

It’s not really good enough, of course, but it’s still good. It’s what they got. 

When the conversation hits a slow point, after Jefferson just finished telling Miles about the ridiculous clothes he and Aaron used to think were cool as hell twenty years ago, Miles hops up from his seat and runs off to get something from his bedroom. Jefferson is left blinking after him. Miles comes back into the room with much more uncertainly, holding an open sketchbook against his chest like it’s something fragile. 

Jefferson sits up straight and makes more room beside him on the couch. 

Miles sits down beside him right away, but it takes him several seconds to pull the sketchbook away from his chest and show Jefferson what’s inside. It’s artwork of  _ Aaron.  _

“...That’s really good, Miles,” Jefferson says. 

The colors bleed into each other a little here, but they’re bright and it just makes it look more passionate. The lines are sketchy, not all of them have been erased, but that just makes the likeness look that much more alive. Everything Miles does is amazing, but the love bleeds through this simple sketchbook drawing of Aaron. For Aaron. 

Jefferson wraps an arm around Miles’ shoulders, bringing them closer together. 

Miles makes a pained noise. “Sorry,” he says quickly, leaning into the touch. “I, uh, tripped in gym class the other day.” 

“Are you alright?” 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m cool. It’s nothing. Do you… do you think he’d like this?” 

“He’d love it,” Jefferson says, because it’s true. 

Miles leans in a little more, the sketchbook pages falling a little more open. “I was, uh, hoping that you’d help me find somewhere to throw this up? Legally! I know Uncle Aaron didn’t, uh, really care about that sort of thing, but I was hoping…” 

“Yeah?” 

“I was sort of hoping to put this up somewhere where people could see it,” Miles says softly. “I don’t want to hide this where no one can see it. I mean, a canvas would be cool too? I’d just… uh… I kinda want this to be big and I’d have to save up for it, so… would you help?” 

“...Yeah, of course, Miles.” 

Jefferson is  _ so glad  _ to be seeing this,  _ so glad  _ to be asked this, that a part of him feels twenty years younger and ready to let Miles put this up anywhere he likes. But, of course, he’s not that guy anymore and they  _ do  _ need to do this legally, if only so Miles doesn’t have any future opportunities taken from him just for spraying some paint on a wall. Aaron would probably laugh at them for doing something like for him - he’d probably tell them there’s no need, that it’d be easier to throw this up somewhere no one can see - but that just makes Jefferson want to do this the “right way” all the more. 

“Do you want a canvas or a wall?” Jefferson asks. 

“Uh, a wall, I think,” Miles says. “Like Uncle Aaron used to... do.” 

Jefferson can hear a lot of, uh, activities he would not approve of in that sentence. He’s seen a few of the phone pictures of art pieces that Miles has accidentally uploaded to the wrong places once or twice over the years. He chooses not to comment on it this time. 

“But I know a wall might be hard to do, you know, legally,” Miles says quickly. “So a canvas could be cool too? I just… we don’t really have the space and no one would see it… so…” 

“No, I get it,” Jefferson interrupts, squeezing his son’s shoulders. “I get it.” 

Miles slumps a little under his arm and sighs. 

Jeffersons thinks, before he finally says, “This was going to be a birthday present, but… your mother and I have actually been working on finding some wall space for you to do a mural or something. Legally. It took awhile - you know how real estate is in this city - but we found a place pretty recently. I dunno if the mural could stay up  _ forever  _ \- real estate, you know - but… I think we could do at least a year. Probably.” 

Miles finally looks up at him, hopefully. “Really?” 

“Yeah.” Jefferson clears his throat and shifts his voice a little deeper. “Your old man’s got some clout in this neighbourhood, you know?” 

Miles laughs. 

“And so did your Uncle Aaron, you know,” Jefferson adds, less jokingly. “I know that the funeral was kind of… it wasn’t much… but… people ‘round here do care. I’ve… I’ve gotten a lot of messages from people I thought I’d drifted away from a long time ago, wanting to know what they could do for us. I think… I think something like this would mean more to more people than you think, Miles. If you really want to do this, I’ll help make it happen for you.” 

Miles doesn’t answer right away, looking down again, but then he leans into Jefferson fully, as much of a hug back as he can manage with both hands still on his sketchbook. “Thanks, Dad. That’d… that’d be real cool.” 

“You know I’m always happy to help,” Jefferson reminds him, pressing a kiss into his hair. “And to support your artistic endeavors.” After a second, he adds, “The legal ones.” 

Miles snorts. 

“I think this is an amazing idea, Miles,” Jefferson says again. “Aaron would love it.” 

He always used to say Miles was the best of all of them. 

That was one of the few things Jefferson and Aaron agreed on without a doubt. 

“You used to be so close…” Miles begins. 

“Yeah.” 

Miles runs a thoughtfully hand over his drawing. “You and Uncle Aaron. How do… how do people drift apart when they used to be that close?” 

Sometimes, Jefferson still wonders that too. 

“...They stop trying, mostly,” Jefferson answers. “It’s… hard… when you’re young. Because you’re still learning how to talk to people at all and you can be so wrapped up in your own feelings. And you’re changing a lot and life is changing pretty fast too, and you gotta make choices you don’t know how to make. When you grow up, you gotta learn how to do love with some distance between you, and some heavy choices and some hurt behind you, and it’s hard.” 

“Yeah…” Miles says quietly. “I get that.” 

There’s a wistful note in Miles’ voice that Jefferson notices. 

“You… are you having trouble keeping up with your old friends at all?” he tries. 

“A little bit,” Miles admits. “It’s… different.” 

“Things get a little bit harder when you don’t see someone every day,” Jefferson agrees. “You gotta put the time in to get to know people and be with them. It’s easier when you have something like school or work to put people together every day.” 

“Yeah,” Miles says. 

“...Are you having any trouble with people at your new school?” Jefferson tries. It sounded to him and Rio that things were going pretty well lately on that front. Miles is a friendly kid. He’s smart and funny and there’s no good reason not to like him, as far as Jefferson can see. 

“Not really,” Miles answers. 

“That’s good.” 

“Sometimes it feels a little fake, though, you know?” 

“...How so?” 

“Like, we’re all just being nice to each other, but it doesn’t really mean anything? You know?” Miles tries, leaning out from under Jefferson’s arm so he can wave his hands vaguely. “Like, we’re being nice and we’re having fun because that’s what you’re supposed to do, right? That’s what you do with people. But we don’t really talk about anything real. We never really click. We don’t actually, like, get each other, you know? We’re just… hanging out because we’re in the same space? Because school’s put us together like that.” 

Jefferson thinks this over. “I think that’s the time part of it, Miles,” he says finally. “There’s a difference between a friendly acquaintance and a friend - even though all those social media apps and whatever these days blur the lines of it a little.” 

Miles snorts, then sighs. “How long is it gonna take, though? I wanna like some of these people, but sometimes I just… I don’t  _ get  _ them. And they don’t get me. And I don’t think it’s ever gonna happen. And it’s really,  _ really  _ awkward, you know?” 

“Well… you don’t have to be friends with everyone you meet,” Jefferson offers. “Sometimes it just doesn’t happen. You don’t have to force it because you feel you’re supposed to.” 

“...I guess.” 

“Are you giving these new people the  _ chance  _ to get you?” 

“Yeah,” Miles says. Then, after another couple seconds, he says, “...No.” 

“Well, which one is it?” 

“I guess I’ve been kinda busy outside of classes lately,” Miles says thoughtfully. “With, like, homework and art stuff and hanging out with people from my old school. Ganke’s pretty cool, though. And there was this one girl who was really cool, but…” 

“But?” Jefferson prompts. 

“She was only visiting,” Miles says glumly, clearly a little embarrassed. 

“What was her name?” 

“Gw… anda?” 

“Gwanda,” Jefferson repeats. He’s not sure if Miles doesn’t really know or doesn’t want Jefferson to know, with that pause, but he’s not sure it matters. “Well, did you get her number?” 

“No.” 

“Could you look her up online and message her?” 

“No.” 

“Oh, is that considered too ‘creepy’ or something?” Jefferson’s been thinking of it a lot like looking someone up in the phone book, but he sees all sorts of things he doesn’t read that seem to be about the perils of online relationships these days. It all sounds unnecessarily complicated to him. Even more than the old “rules” of dating, which he also didn’t understand. 

“No, she just doesn’t have any of that,” Miles says quickly. 

“Oh, that’s a shame.” 

“Yeah.” 

“It’s not fun to feel connected with someone and then miss the opportunity,” Jefferson says, patting Miles on the shoulder. “But there’ll be more opportunities.” He looks down at the open sketchbook still on Miles lap, at the likeness still looking out at them, and pats Miles on the shoulder again. “There’ll be people out there who ‘get it’. It just takes time to find them sometimes. It takes time to open up and get to the real stuff sometimes.” 

“Yeah, how  _ long,  _ though?” Miles says, sounding exactly like the teenager he is. 

“It’s different for everyone,” Jefferson answers, with exactly the sort of not-inaccurate wise adult bullshit that would have annoyed the hell out of him as a teenager. “You gotta be looking for them, for one thing, but sometimes you gotta let people know you’re looking too, so they can reach out to you when they’re ready.” 

“Yeah, that makes sense,” Miles says tiredly. 

“And you know your mom and I are here in the meantime,” Jefferson reminds him. 

“Yeah, I know,” Miles agrees, closing the sketchbook. “I know, Dad. Thanks.” 


	3. Chapter 3

Jefferson goes to work. He goes to see his therapist. He goes to the gym with his buddies; he goes out on a date with Rio; and he goes out with Miles to check out the wall they’re hoping to use for Aaron’s mural. The changes in the world settle in around them a little more, while more changes are probably building up every day, and life is pretty good in the meanwhile. 

They’re all getting on. 

The next time Jefferson sees the new Spider-Man in person is actually when he’s trying to meet up with Miles. There’s some technological innovation competition or something happening for the local high schools. Miles has been talking about it for over a month now. It’s part of some extracurricular thing that Miles’ roommate is participating in, which Miles has been looking forward to attending. In typical teenage fashion, at the last minute like he’d forgotten to do so earlier, Miles invited Jefferson and Rio to drop by the “convention / competition / showcase”  _ thing  _ if they had the time, since he thought it was going to be a pretty cool event. 

At first, it looks like neither Rio or Jefferson will be able to get the time off work on such short notice, but one of Jefferson’s colleagues comes through at the last minute so that Jefferson can _ “go be Super-Dad again”.  _ Jefferson changes out of his uniform and heads downtown with a bit of skip in his step, excited to see more of the school Miles seems to be coming to enjoy. Community involvement is very important, after all! 

Jefferson texts Miles the news, but doesn’t get an answer. He enters the  _ “Tech Fair”  _ alone and strolls around a bit, a map complimentary with admission in hand, heading towards the booth where the Visions Academy students should be. 

“Hey, Ganke, right?” Jefferson says, when he spots a familiar uniform in the crowd. 

Ganke Lee has answered Miles’ door a few times now, when Jefferson’s come around to pick his son up or drop something off, being his roommate and all. The kid’s appeared in a few photos on Miles’ social media too. He’s a short kid, with a round, brown face and glasses, dressed today in a slightly disheveled Visions uniform, a green beanie, and black headphones. Jefferson has seen the infamous roommate enough now to put a face to Miles’ stories, most of which present the kid as bright if a little too focused sometimes. 

Right now, Ganke has a donut in his mouth, a large black box that resembles a half-built computer in his arms, and he freezes like a deer in headlights at Jefferson’s greeting. The kid’s shoulders relax slightly when he apparently recognizes Jefferson and he shuffles over through the crowd. 

“How’s it going?” Jefferson offers. 

Ganke tries to talk, but he’s got that donut in his mouth, and he can’t take it out because he’s sagging under the weight of the computer in his arms. Jefferson watches this dilemma apparently occur to the kid in real-time, from the panicked expressions on his face. 

It’s… very like Miles. 

“Why don’t I get that for you, son?” Jefferson offers. 

Ganke is sinking slowly to the floor under the weight of the computer, so he can’t really object when Jefferson takes it off his hands. It’s a decent weight, this black box, but nothing strenuous for him. Relieved of his burden, Ganke hastily shoves the donut fully into his mouth and promptly chokes on it. This is also very like Miles. Poor kid. Jefferson feels more reassured by their friendship than he probably should, as he readjusts his grip on the computer so he can slap the poor kid on the back. 

Ganke clearly feels deeply embarrassed, once he stops coughing. “Sorry, Mr. Morales.” 

“It’s Mr. Davis - Officer Davis, technically - but Jeff or Jefferson’s fine.” 

“Oh, sorry.” 

Ganke politely doesn’t ask why Miles has his mom’s name. It makes Jefferson like the kid even more. 

“So, uh, I heard you’re a part of the team involved in this?” Jefferson says. 

“Yeah.” 

“I know Miles isn’t a part of the team, but he said he was coming with you, and I got off work at the last minute, so, uh, I thought I’d drop by and see some of the cool stuff you kids were doing here,” Jefferson explains. “...Do you know where Miles is? He hasn’t answered my texts.” 

“He was just finishing up an art project when I left,” Ganke offers uncertainly, which explains it. Miles probably has his headphones in while he’s working and hasn’t heard his phone go off over the music he’s probably playing too loudly. “I think he should be here soon? He said he’d be here before noon.” 

“I’ll call him in a bit,” Jefferson decides. “Can I carry this somewhere for you?” 

“Yes, please,” Ganke says, with obvious relief. “We’re over-” 

Miles’ roommate doesn’t get to finish his sentence before a section of the convention hall wall blows up. Jefferson takes a knee, pushing Ganke down as well, before another blast goes off and the building shudders. People scream. It looks like some kind of energy beam. 

Jefferson stands up again swiftly, pulling Ganke up by the back of his uniform while the kid scrambles to get his phone out of his pocket, and begins directing the people around him to evacuate - quickly but  _ calmly  _ \- in the opposite direction of the energy beam blasts. He doesn’t know what’s behind the blasts, but they seem to be coming on some sort of cycle, they’re directed mostly towards the ceiling and upper walls, and they thankfully don’t seem too destructive. Also fortunately, the crowds around him seem inclined to listen to his Public Servant Voice and begin the evacuation of the convention hall with minimal screaming and shoving. Someone pulls the fire alarm too, and people definitely know that drill. 

Ganke seems inclined to closely stick to Jefferson’s side as they make their way out of the building. He’s trying to text on his phone and walk at the same time for some reason, so Jefferson keeps his free hand on the collar of the kid’s uniform to stop Miles’ screen-obsessed roommate from tripping and being trampled. If the kid tries to turn around and film whatever disaster is happening behind them, Jefferson is prepared to drag him out of here by the scruff of his neck, but thankfully Ganke’s apparently smarter than that. 

“Text Miles and tell him to stay away,” Jefferson tells the kid. It’s bad enough this is happening to a high school tech competition; Jefferson doesn’t want his son, who might be  _ on his way here now, _ anywhere  _ near  _ this place if a junior supervillain has decided to make their debut here. 

Ganke looks up at him with wide eyes. “Uh, sure? Yeah, I can- I’ll do that?” 

“Good, thanks,” Jefferson says, and immediately has to stop the kid from walking into a trash can. This is  _ exactly  _ why distracted driving should be taken more seriously! 

They get out of the building just fine, emergency services are contacted, and Jefferson is trying to keep the panicky crowds  _ away  _ from the convention hall when he sees a small black figure swinging through the skyscrapers. Gasps go through the crowd as people spot the new Spider-Man. Cell phones are raised to take pictures and video. 

The new Spider-Man crawls along the side of the hotel across the street, looks towards the convention hall still ringing with alarms, then  _ leaps  _ into the air. There’s a sizable gap between buildings and, for a heart-stopping moment, Jefferson is  _ certain  _ that Spider-Man isn’t going to clear the convention hall gardens. But then Spider-Man shoots a web on either side of a small, smoky hole in the side of the convention hall, slingshots forward, and flips neatly through the gap. The new kid disappears inside just as the building shudders with another energy blast. 

Someone in the crowd whoops excitedly, which is echoed across the street. Jefferson can hear the sirens of emergency services arriving at speed, still not quick enough to beat Spider-Man to the scene apparently. Jefferson wonders if the kid was in the area. 

Ganke’s phone starts ringing and the kid winces when he looks at the screen. “Our coach is looking for me,” he explains to Jefferson, before he answers the phone to assure his teacher that he’s alright. He’s even with his roommate’s dad! 

Ganke soon plaintively offers Jefferson the phone for backup and Jefferson reassures a very stressed teacher in his best Public Servant Voice that the emergency services workers on-scene have the situation under control. They coordinate to meet up with the rest of the gaggle of minors the teacher is supposed to be responsible for today. Once they arrive, Jefferson hands Ganke back his phone and sticks around, much to the relief of the five-foot-nothing, young, and stressed Visions teacher, though it seems like the situation is already winding down. 

The energy blasts have already stopped. The emergency service workers on scene don’t look particularly panicked. No one has popped onto the roof of the convention hall to monologue and/or cackle maniacally and give New York City an even worse name. 

Ten minutes after swinging onto the scene, Spider-Man crawls out of a hole in the ceiling and gives the crowd a wave and two thumbs-up. People cheer. The new kid in town does some ridiculous, impossible backflip off the convention hall - to immediately obliging  _ oohs  _ and  _ aahs  _ from a crowd of mostly high-schoolers - onto one of the flagpoles. Instead of swinging off immediately, he lingers over the crowd outside the convention hall, jumping from the flagpole to a street light, cartwheeling onto another street light with another wave at the kids below. 

The new Spider-Man stops on a streetlight very close to where Jefferson and the Visions team are standing. Hanging upside down from an advertisement banner, he seems to look directly at them, and then even salutes them with a flick of his hand. 

“All clear, everyone,” the kid says, in that fake deep voice he can’t keep up consistently. A lot of Jefferson’s colleagues have laughingly commented on it. 

After a moment of hesitation, Jefferson returns the casual salute. 

It’s the polite thing to do. 

The kids around him wave their hands and their phones back at the new Spider-Man, who flips back upright and to the top of the streetlight, in an equally casual and impossible display of strength. Finally, the new kid shoots a web back towards the hotel across the street and flips away with a final wave. He swings off with flair, clearly showing off for the crowd until he tumbles out of sight, or maybe just having fun with it because he can. 

Jefferson smiles after the kid despite himself. 

Kids these days. 

He still doesn’t particularly  _ approve, _ though. 

All the Visions students, Ganke included, are on their phones. Between the dozen of them or so, between all their social media feeds giving them micro-blogging updates and face-chats and what-have-you from the other schools, they reveal to the teacher and to Jefferson that it actually wasn’t a supervillain. There’s no new mad scientist in town. There’s only a deeply embarrassed teenage supergenius whose mostly untested and definitely illegal invention (which they shouldn’t have brought anywhere  _ near  _ this Tech Fair) went haywire. Ganke turns his phone around to show Jefferson a meanly-captioned social media post of a teenager with their face in their hands, being escorted to a police vehicle by unamused officers. 

Jefferson feels kinda bad for the kid, though not enough not to be deeply unimpressed with the thoughtlessness which just endangered the lives of hundreds if not thousands of people. Nevertheless, he sternly reminds the Visions students around him not to engage in any kind of online dogpiling towards their fellow minor, who will be facing plenty of consequences for this fiasco, because it’s neither compassionate nor constructive behavior. 

The Visions teacher quickly agrees with him and, now that the situation is under control (and it’s been made obvious she doesn’t have to herd a dozen teenagers through a junior supervillain’s big debut), begins taking stock of which students have personal belongings still in the now-temporarily-closed convention hall. 

Which reminds Jefferson that he’s still holding Ganke’s computer thing. He doesn’t really want to spend the rest of his day hanging out here holding it. It’s heavy enough to be annoying after too long, and it might be awhile before the authorities clear the convention hall- 

“Dad! Ganke!” 

“Miles?” 

Jefferson’s son is pushing his way through the crowd towards them, wearing a rumpled Visions uniform, with his phone in hand and one of his sneakers untied. Miles thumps into Jefferson’s side in a quick hug, which Jefferson can’t return properly with both hands on Ganke’s computer at the moment. Miles smells a bit like smoke. Must’ve jogged past a smoking area. 

“Miles, what are you doing here?” Jefferson looks at Ganke, who was supposed to tell Miles to  _ stay away  _ from the convention hall. 

Miles’ roommate only barely seems to stop himself from throwing his arms up, as though Jefferson’s caught him in a criminal act and told him to put his hands in the air. “I texted him!” Ganke insists. “I told him what was up!” 

“He did, Dad,” Miles agrees quickly, skipping back. “But I was already on my way over when I got the text! And then I was checking people’s posts for updates and they all say it’s all already over! Spider-Man handled it and smashed the out-of-control invention! Does that mean that the Tech Fair’s cancelled? What’s going to happen now?” 

Jefferson sighs, because that’s probably the closest he should have expected his son to get to running from something like this. “I don’t know yet, Miles.” 

What happens is this: the authorities  _ do  _ cancel the Tech Fair due to concerns over lingering effects from the  _ very illegal  _ device that had been smuggled into the convention hall. Jefferson takes Miles, Ganke, and two of their classmates back to Visions in his car, amusedly listening to the complaining of teenagers somehow under the impression adults can’t hear and drive at the same time. Once they arrive at the dormitories, Jefferson waves off the thanks of the other students and unlocks the trunk for Ganke and Miles. He’s prepared to carry Ganke’s computer up to the room, but Miles beats him to it. 

“I got it, Dad!” he insists, hefting it into his arms with… surprisingly little effort. 

Jefferson blinks in surprise. “...If you’re sure.” 

“Yeah, I got it, no problem,” Miles says, and it looks like it really does have it. Not like he’s putting on a face or anything. Miles really has apparently been working out lately. Ganke looks a little anxious, glancing between them with wide eyes, but it really doesn’t look like Miles is going to drop his project and he doesn’t say anything. 

“Let me walk you up,” Jefferson says. 

They check in with the front desk, then Jefferson has to steer his son towards the elevator instead of the stairs, and he walks the kids down the hall to their room. Ganke doesn’t have his room key, so Miles tells his roommate to grab his own key out of his uniform pocket. Jefferson pulls his own phone out to check the time and to see if Rio has texted him back yet; he only sees something black and red fall out of Miles’ pocket as Ganke pulls out the key out of the corner of his eye. It falls to the floor with a soft  _ pap.  _

He probably wouldn’t have paid it any real attention if Miles’ roommate hadn’t immediately  _ dropped  _ to the floor after it. Jefferson’s knees practically rattle in sympathy. He can’t quite see what it is before Ganke shoves it in his own pocket. A cloth bag? A painting mask? 

“Sorry, sorry,” Ganke says quickly, fumbling with the key to open the door. 

Once the door is open, Miles puts the computer on a bed, since there’s all sorts of clutter on the desk. He’s still apparently unbothered by the weight of it. It makes Jefferson wonder if he’s just getting old, before he decides he probably just overdid it at the gym yesterday. 

Jefferson looks around their room. It’s not as much as a mess as it could be - clean enough for two teenage boys busy with school and extracurriculars - but he’s not here to inspect their cleaning habits, he’s just hoping to see that art project Ganke mentioned earlier. 

Instead, he sees Miles’ roommate swipes half the contents of the desk aside and out of sight. Even though the stuff sitting on it looked kind of tech-y? Watch-phones of some kind? Something worn on the wrist, anyway. Jefferson doesn’t keep up with those phones that look like watches and stuff - the screens are too damn small - but he’s pretty sure you shouldn’t shove gadgets like that onto the floor. Maybe they were only casing of some kind? 

“Hey, um, Miles, could you put that here?” Ganke says, apparently unconcerned by any potential damage, gesturing at the now open desk space. “Please?” 

Miles moves the computer to the desk easily. “Yeah, no problem!” 

“You should probably pick that up before someone steps on it,” Jefferson advises. 

“Yep! Will do,” Ganke agrees. “I’ll, um, do that now.” 

“Can I walk you out, Dad?” Miles offers, popping back into the doorway. 

“No, no, it’s cool,” Jefferson says, because that would sort of defeat the purpose of him walking them up. “I heard you were working on some art earlier? I’d love to see some of the work you’re doing for school. Or just the stuff you’ve been drawing for fun lately.” 

“Ohh,” Miles says. “I, uh, kinda handed it in already? But maybe I can bring something home the next time I come home?” 

“That’d be great. You’re documenting your work properly right?” Jefferson asks, just to double check. “I’ve been reading some articles on tips for artists and I know it’s important to have a good portfolio of your work. It’s important to save these things. Even the stuff you don’t like. It might have a spark of something you don’t see yet. And they say it’s also good to keep track of your progress and all the hard work you’ve been into this sort of thing.” 

“Yeah, Dad, I know,” Miles says, smiling up at him. “I’ve been taking pictures.” 

Jefferson coughs into the back of his fist, realizing he’d been going on a bit there. “Good,” he says. “I, uh, just don’t want you undervaluing your work in any way. It’s good stuff, even if you choose not to pursue it as a career-” 

“I  _ know,  _ Dad,” Miles says, still smiling. “I’ll send you and Mom the pictures.” 

“Thanks. You, uh, you got one of those social media blogs for your art nowadays?” 

Miles freezes, looking a little horrified. “What?” 

“An online presence is apparently pretty important these days for artists, it sounds like. I trust you’re being safe with your internet use, of course, if you have a blog,” Jefferson says, and Miles only looks increasingly horrified. Possibly at the fact that his old man knows that blogs exist. “Or, uh, are your mother and I not allowed to follow you online?” 

“...I don’t have an art blog,” Miles says, but he looks a little cagey. 

Teenagers. 

Jefferson lets it go for now, reaching out to fix his son’s disheveled uniform instead. It hasn’t been buttoned up properly, revealing something that looks like a black athletic top underneath his uniform, and Jefferson straightens his son’s shirt out of parental habit. He lets his fingers linger on the stretchy material of Miles’ undershirt only briefly. He doesn’t recognize it, but he assumes Miles or Rio picked it up for Miles’ new workout kick or something like that. 

Miles stays very still. “Uh…” 

“I’ll be on my way, then, if you two have it from here,” Jefferson says. “I’m sure you two have things to do, what with your whole day being sidetracked like this. Miles, why don’t you bring Ganke over for dinner the next time you come home? Your mom and I would love to meet any of your new friends here. Put some faces to the names.” 

“Uh…” 

“Unless, of course, you’re busy,” Jefferson says to Miles’ roommate. 

“Nope!” Ganke says quickly. “I’d love to! That sounds great!” 

Jefferson can’t help but raise his eyebrows at such an overeager response. Does the kid not want to see his parents? Does Miles’ roommate not  _ have  _ parents in the city? Jefferson slams the brakes on his train of thoughtless assumptions before it can jump from  _ “maybe he’s an international student”  _ to  _ “oh my god, he’s an orphan”.  _ In his experience, is all, a lot of kids are a little more uncertain about hanging out with adults, and Ganke seemed kind of shy. 

“Well, alright, we’ll look forward to having you,” Jefferson says. 

“Yep! I’ll be there!” 

“Bye, Dad,” Miles offers. 

“See you later, Miles. I love you.” 

Miles is already closing the door, but he catches it at the last moment, just to pull it open again, smile, and say, “I love you too, Dad. See you soon.” 

And then he closes the door. 

Jefferson heads back to the car, pulling out his phone to text Rio again. 

Those kids better not have been hiding something dangerous from him, he thinks as he goes. They’d seemed much too eager to get him out of there. Were they embarrassed by the mess? Was there something in their room they didn’t want him to see? He’d rather it be something they’re just embarrassed by, like anime or memes or whatever else the kids are into these days that’s not cool to be openly into, instead of something serious; but he’s not going to push it. He’s not going to assume the worst without evidence. That room is Miles and Ganke’s space. Jefferson is determined to respect that space. Teenagers need safe, private spaces! 

...If Miles is tagging again, though, the kid is going to be in  _ so much trouble.  _

~ 

Ganke Lee is an extremely polite dinner guest. Jefferson tries his best not to interrogate Miles’ roommate about his family situation. Rio makes a very determined effort  _ not  _ to chastise someone else’s kid for their terrible sleeping habits, instead casually dancing around the topic of what the latest research says about the consequences of pulling all-nighters. Several times over the course of the meal, Miles very clearly struggles not to put his head in his hands and openly despair of his nosy, concerned, and very embarrassing parents. 

Ganke, politely, appears to do his best to notice none of this. He’s almost convincing. 

“So, Jeff tells me that you were going to take part in that high school science and technology competition that got cancelled,” Rio says. “What were you going to do there?” 

Ganke talks about his programming and hardware-building projects some - Jefferson isn’t that tech-savvy, so it all sounds somewhat complicated and a little ambitious to him - with occasional interjections from Miles, emphasizing just how cool and impressive something his roommate has done is. Jefferson is pleased to see Miles so interested in his friend’s interests. He also can’t help but be proud of how many diverse interests his son has. 

“Ahh, it’s a shame you didn’t get to show off your hard work,” Rio says to their guest. 

Ganke shrugs, embarrassedly fixing his glasses. “It’s okay. There’ll be other chances,” he says, very maturely. “There’s lots of online opportunities these days. I’m just glad that Spider-Man showed up quickly and that no one actually got hurt.” 

“Are you a fan of the new Spider-Man?” Rio asks, with a teasing look in Jefferson’s direction. 

Miles chokes on his glass of water. Rio has asked their son the same teasing question before; the answer was a lot of hemming and hawing, which ultimately ended in a very nonchalant _ “he’s cool, I guess”  _ that almost definitely meant  _ “yes” _ . Which is fair enough. Jefferson can simultaneously not condone amateur law enforcement behavior from a superpowered teenager and also agree that superpowers are pretty cool (and that the new Spider-Man seems like a very earnest, very brave young man and has done some admirable if inadvisable work so far), so he can’t really hold that against his son. 

Ganke looks uncertainly between Rio, Jefferson, and the still coughing Miles. “Uhhh…” 

That’s almost definitely another  _ “yes”.  _

The new Spider-Man seems popular enough with “the kids”. Meanwhile, the conservative-leaning sort tend to compare the new friendly neighborhood hero disfavorably to his predecessor, as though they didn’t spend the past ten years calling the late Peter Parker vitriolic variations on  _ “a menace to society”.  _

“I’m glad he was there?” Ganke offers finally. “He’s just trying to help, right?” 

That’s definitely a  _ “yes”.  _

All in all, Miles’ roommate is intelligent, friendly, and a delight to have over for dinner, if a little shy, and only manages to set off one mental alarm over the course of his visit. After Jefferson and Rio have both stepped out of the room for a moment, when Jefferson is coming back with a board game Rio thinks the boys will like and both be very good at, he catches the tail-end of a hushed conversation between Miles and their guest. 

“-they really  _ don’t know?”  _ Ganke is whispering. “Are you ever going to-?” 

“Shh! Not here!” Miles says desperately. 

Jefferson is already standing in the doorway by the time he realizes he’s stumbled onto something, in plain sight of Miles and Ganke, so there’s no stopping to listen at the door or turning back to pretend he never came in. Both boys are looking at him, lips already zipped. There’s not much else to do but keep going and pretend he never heard anything. Nothing to do but pretend there’s not an alarm banging back and forth on the inside; nothing to do but play board games when Rio comes back from the bathroom. 

Jefferson helps the boys set up a bed for Ganke in Miles’ room - the invitation initially made because it was a little upsetting to imagine sending the kid back to a lonely dormitory - and makes sure the kids know to shout if they need anything. Then he rejoins Rio in their bedroom and tells her about the hushed exchange he walked in on earlier. 

Teenagers need their privacy, yes, but that doesn’t mean Jefferson can just stop  _ worrying  _ at will about what his teenage son might be hiding from him. It better not be tagging. Jefferson thought they’d come to an understanding about the tagging. 

“Maybe he’s gay, Jeff,” Rio says, much less concerned about this whole thing. 

Her blunt statement knocks Jefferson off his axis of panic and into a loop of stunned confusion immediately. He sits down on their bed, while Rio replaces her bookmark and puts her book back on the bedside table, looking at him in amusement. As though she can see his realization that he didn’t properly consider that option and doesn’t know what to do about it. 

Has he made the right effort to make it clear to Miles it’s safe to come out if he’s gay? Does Miles have the right resources for navigating the experiences he might have? Miles is already a mixed, black, half-Puerto-Rican kid and now he might have to deal with homophobia? 

“...What?” 

“Maybe he’s figuring out what university program he wants to apply for,” Rio continues. 

“Did you see something?” Jefferson asks seriously. 

“Or maybe he wants to get a part-time job.” 

“Did Ganke- Miles should be focusing on his studies right now. He doesn’t need to get a part-time job. He has an allowance. If he wants help paying for something big, he can always ask,” Jefferson says firmly. “Do you think Ganke is… a boyfriend?” 

Rio sighs and pats his shoulder. “No, I’m just _ saying _ Miles is figuring a lot of stuff out right now. New friends. New school. Plus he’s a teenager and still figuring out what kind of person he’s going to be; it’s unavoidable. Maybe he failed a test. Maybe he won an award.” 

“He knows he can tell us about those,” Jefferson says, because he  _ does,  _ right? 

“It could be anything, Jeff. He just might not want to tell us anything until he’s sure of himself.” 

“He’s a teenager, that could be never,” Jefferson protests. 

He’s not whining. He’s  _ not.  _ He is a grown-ass man who complains about reasonable things in a reasonable tone of voice. 

Rio giggles. 

“...I worry, that’s all,” Jefferson says finally. 

She’s right. It could be anything, everything, or nothing. If Jefferson’s not willing to force the issue, then only time and trust will tell. 

“I know, baby, that’s why I love you,” Rio tells him, shifting over to wrap her arms around his shoulders and press her lips against his jaw. “You care  _ so much.”  _

“I do,” Jefferson agrees. 

Maybe it’d be easier if he didn’t, but he wouldn’t give up this caring for anything. 

“Miles does too. He cares what we think.” 

“Yeah, I know.” 

Rio squeezes his shoulders. “He cares what you think, Jeff.” 

Jefferson places her hands on his arms, leaning back against her a little more. “He cares what you think too,” he says, still a little stuck in that loop of confusion. He and Miles have been spending a little more time together because of their talks about Aaron and setting up Miles’ mural project, but Miles loves his mother very much. 

“I know,” Rio says quietly. “Give him time. Sometimes these things are harder to talk about with the people we care about, because they can hurt us like other people can’t.” 

“You’re right about that,” Jefferson sighs. 

He thinks over some of the things his therapist has said lately. 

“Maybe I’ll make more of an effort to let Miles know it’s alright not to be alright,” he says. “He’s amazing and I just want him to be alright, but I want him to know he can be sad or scared if he needs to be. I don’t want him to think he needs to hurt himself to meet our expectations. Except I  _ still _ don’t know how to say that without… you know… making it sound…” 

“Like you think he’s not alright or like you think he really needs therapy,” Rio finishes. “Well, that’s what you’re showing him by example now, right? I can try to talk to him too, so it’s not all on you. It’s been a while since we had a heart-to-heart. How’s your therapy going?” 

“It’s good. I think it’s helping.” 

“That’s good. How’s getting that wall space going?” 

“Should be all ready to go soon.” 

“Miles has really been looking forward to it.” 

“Me too,” Jefferson says, squeezing Rio’s hands. He’s excited to be involved in one of his son’s art projects, especially one with so much meaning to them both. It’s going to be nostalgic too; it’s been a long while since he did this sort of thing himself. 

“You’ll be spending a lot of time together when you’re working on his painting; maybe Miles will open up,” Rio says optimistically. 

“Yeah,” Jefferson agrees. “Maybe.” 

Miles can’t be hiding anything too bad, can he? It’s probably the sort of ordinary teenage crisis that kids blow a little out of proportion, wanting to fix the issue themselves while not having the experience to put the problem in perspective. All Jefferson has to do is keep reassuring his son that he’s here, that Rio is here, and that there’s nothing the three of them can’t handle as a family. Miles knows how much they love him. 

“...Rio, seriously, did you see something that made you think Miles might be gay?” Jefferson asks, because now he’s going to have to make sure Miles’ sexual education extends to queer relationships or it’s going to bother him. Does Miles have gay people to talk to if he’s questioning his orientation? The school probably has resources for this sort of thing. What happened to that Gwanda girl? Is Miles bisexual? That would be fine too. 

Rio sighs. “No, I did not. It was just an example, Jeff.” 

“Ganke’s a nice boy. I wouldn’t mind if they were dating, but they’re roommates, Rio.” 

“Oh my god,” Rio says, and lies back down. 

“Do you think it’s really a good idea? I mean, that’s jumping straight to the ‘living together’ stage of things, and Miles only just started a new school too. You can’t hide anything from a roommate, especially not in a room that small. And what happens when they’re not living in each other’s pockets anymore-?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ganke Lee _coming through_ as a roommate. 
> 
> It's difficult to make the connections when you KNOW your son does not have superpowers.


	4. Chapter 4

“Did you know?” 

Jefferson settles next to Miles, having made sure all their paint is sealed, while Miles fiddles with the nice family camera. Miles isn’t looking at him, instead flipping through the work-in-progress shots of the mural that’s taken up the better part of their day off, and it’s the slightly too casual tone of his voice that makes Jefferson notice exactly how Miles is determinedly  _ not looking at him. _ Miles’ expression is as carefully casual as his voice as he flips back and forth through the camera’s gallery. 

“Know what?” Jefferson asks, though he thinks he knows where this is going. 

Miles pauses on the picture they’d taken after he’d finished painting Aaron’s likeness on the wall, the point where the shapes and shadows had suddenly become a person. Jefferson almost glances behind them at the mural itself, looming over them, but he focuses on Miles instead. He doesn’t reach out yet, he just sits beside his son and waits. 

“...Did you know what Uncle Aaron was doing?” Miles says finally. 

Somehow, despite expecting it, the question still takes Jefferson by surprise. He remembers the first time he’d reached out to Miles about talking about this and one of Miles’ first reactions had been defensiveness - he’d been concerned Jefferson had thought he’d known - but Jefferson doesn’t remember if he ever made it clear to Miles how they’d been in the same dark. If Jefferson had known Aaron had been working for the  _ Kingpin,  _ he’d… well… he probably wouldn’t have reacted well. He knows himself and he knew Aaron at least that well. 

“No,” Jefferson answers gently. “No, Miles, I didn’t know.” 

He likes to think, especially now that Aaron’s gone, that they might have somehow worked it all out like a family, if only things had been different, but Jefferson knows that he probably wouldn’t have let Miles anywhere near his brother if he’d known the extent of Aaron’s work. 

“I suspected- I  _ knew  _ that Aaron had been on the wrong side of the law before,” Jefferson admits, “and I suspected that he still sometimes did things on the wrong side of the law, just that he’d gotten better at hiding those parts of his… lifestyle from me. It was one of the reasons we drifted apart as much as we did. And I… I didn’t want to drift apart any further.” 

Miles finally looks at him and it feels like his son can see right through him. 

“You chose not to know,” Miles says, understanding. 

“No, not… exactly,” Jefferson corrects gently. “I chose… not to push it. At least too far. I did push it. Often. I pushed a lot. You know how your uncle and I still… argued sometimes. Aaron didn’t let himself be pushed. He’d gotten pretty good at hiding that stuff from me, but I still had the idea there was something to keep out of. No proof, but… there’d been some things that made it hard to trust there wasn’t something to keep out of.” 

“...What sort of things?” Miles asks. 

“Oh, uh, it’s hard to say, but… when you’ve known someone all your life, you get a pretty good idea of what sort of things they think are alright. What sort of things they’re willing to do. And you notice when they stop or when they’re making excuses or when they’re not saying something, even if you don’t know what they’re not saying.” Jefferson takes a deep breath and forces himself to say clearly, “I didn’t trust that Aaron wasn’t keeping me out of something - that he wasn’t pretending everything was all alright now. And I didn’t trust his word enough anymore to let that go. At least not all the time.” 

Miles doesn’t answer at first, looking away, clearly thinking over Jefferson’s all too clumsy and all too vague explanation of how he and his brother drifted apart. It’d be easier if Jefferson himself understood exactly where he and Aaron started falling apart and why. They were young, caught between feeling like they had all the time in the world and no time left at all, and life happened so quickly to them. Jefferson might have his therapist to help him talk it out now, but he’s always going to be missing the other side of this story. 

His therapist likes to say that while nothing can be taken back, there’s no such thing as a point of no return while someone’s still kicking. A person can always get back up again. But he and Aaron… they chose to make some things - a lot of things - into points of no return. There were a million things that Jefferson could have done differently, but in the moment, it felt impossible. 

“Well,” Miles says finally, “I guess you were right not to trust him.” 

“...I didn’t say I didn’t trust him.” 

Miles frowns at him. “You literally just did?” 

“I didn’t trust he wasn’t still walking on the wrong side of the law,” Jefferson clarifies awkwardly, “or at least that he wasn’t knowingly hanging out with people who’re walking on the wrong side. After we drifted apart, I didn’t always trust the way Aaron had changed.” 

“That sounds like not trusting him to me.” 

“You know it’s more complicated than that, Miles.” 

“...Yeah.” 

Jefferson takes another few seconds to put his words together. “I trusted that Aaron still cared about his family,” he says in the end, though Miles is right that the lack of trust in one area ate at the others. “I didn’t always know what was going on with Aaron - he didn’t let me in like that, probably ‘cause I didn’t let him in like we used to either - but I knew he loved us. Even if we didn’t always say it. I trusted him to want the best for you, Miles.” 

At least most of the time. 

If Jefferson had known about Aaron’s work, yeah, things probably would have gotten ugly. He might have accused Aaron of not caring. He might’ve said Aaron would’ve quit if he really cared. He might have said Aaron wouldn’t have put any of them or  _ himself  _ in danger like that if he cared. Even with the benefit of hindsight, he still doesn’t understand Aaron’s choices. 

But he knows Aaron thought Miles was the best of all of them. 

He’s sure he knew his brother at least that well. 

“It’s not our fault for not seeing what he was hiding from us,” Jefferson says. “He didn’t want us to know.” 

“I know,” Miles says, but his shoulders are slumped. 

That’s alright. It’s alright if Miles doesn’t believe that yet. Jefferson will repeat it as many times as Miles needs to hear it. He’ll repeat it for himself as many times as he needs to hear it too. With enough reinforcement, enough reassurance, hopefully they’ll start really believing it. 

“How do…” Miles begins. 

Jefferson waits. 

“How do you justify it?” Miles asks. “Caring about someone who wasn’t a good person?” 

Jefferson inhales deeply and exhales heavily, because that’s a hell of a question. “I don’t know, Miles,” he says, a little more helplessly than he’d like. “I think it’s… It’s probably important to ask there who gets to decide what makes someone a good person or not. But your uncle… he did some things. He did a lot of things. We can’t say he didn’t make a lot of bad choices.” 

Miles sighs. “Yeah.” 

“But asking that sort of question, Miles, it’s… well, I don’t know if it’s helpful.” 

“Helpful,” Miles repeats, bemused. 

“I mean, are you doing anything with that question besides tearing yourself down for having feelings? Having compassion?” Jefferson tries to explain. “We can’t always help our feelings, man. They’re natural reactions to the things that happen to us; a lot of the time they’re there whether we like them or not... because we can’t help the things that happen to us either. We’re just hurting ourselves when we try to pretend they’re not there.” 

Miles thinks this over, clicking absently through the photos on the camera. 

“Even knowing… the sort of choices your uncle made, Miles, I… I still love him,” Jefferson continues. “He was still my brother. I grew up with him. We had a lot of good memories together. He did a lot of good things for me. It’s okay- it’s  _ good  _ to care about the people in your life.” 

“...But what does that mean for the people who actually got hurt?” Miles says stiffly. “I mean, I can’t just go ‘yeah, I’m sorry my uncle screwed up your life, but I loved him, so that’s fine’.” 

“No, you’re right it’s not fine. But… it’s… it’s like I said about trust, Miles, you know it’s more complicated than that. Aaron… hurt people, but he was also someone we loved. Both of these things can be true at the same time. You have to give yourself permission to let both these things be true. I loved Aaron, but I’m angry about his choices too - I’m angry about the choices he made  _ because  _ I loved him - and that’s okay.” 

“...So what  _ is  _ a helpful question?” 

“What?” 

“If it’s not helpful to ask if it’s alright to care about someone who’s done bad things, what’s a helpful question?” Miles presses, sounding a little desperate. “What does that even  _ mean?  _ What’s a  _ ‘helpful question’?” _

“Uh, well, I guess… What are you gonna do with your feelings?” 

Miles’ expression turns understanding again. 

“Look, Miles, it’s… it’s good to care about people, right? But there’s only so far that your feelings can get you, if you keep them all locked up inside you, no one is ever gonna know about them. It doesn’t help anyone just to feel bad about something that’s unfair. They won’t know the difference. Feeling bad isn’t an automatic apology. You could spend your whole life just constantly thinking about all the suffering in the world, but you’re still not doing anything but hurting yourself.” 

“Which isn’t helpful,” Miles murmurs. 

“It’s never helpful to hurt yourself,” Jefferson says firmly. “Not as punishment. No matter what you think you’ve done. There are better ways to make a difference in the world.” 

“Get up and do something to help,” Miles says, sitting a little straighter, looking every inch the member of a family who believes in exactly that. 

“Yeah,” Jefferson says, and finally reaches out to put his arm around Miles’ shoulders. 

Miles leans into him. “...Thanks, Dad.” 

“You’re welcome, Miles. Anytime, you know?” 

“I know.” 

If Aaron was alive right now, if what he’d been doing had come to light, then it’d be on Jefferson to react to the fact that he loved someone who’d made bad choices. He wouldn’t react well at first, he knows, but… well, there’s no way to know how it would’ve gone in the end. Aaron’s gone. Jefferson’s going to feel a little open-ended there for the rest of his life, probably. 

A belated thought occurs to Jefferson, watching Miles click back and forth through the photos, and he adds, “But you know it’s not up to you to make up for other people’s choices, right? We’ve got a responsibility to do better, but other people’s bad choices aren’t on us.” 

Miles is quiet, but eventually he says, “Yeah, I know, Dad.” 

Well, Jefferson will have to keep saying that too, for as long as Miles needs to hear it. 

This is a little heavier than the conversation he was expecting to have while painting Aaron’s mural, but maybe this is what they’ve been building up to all this time. Jefferson had a lot of feelings letting Miles stand on his shoulders to paint, like he used to do with Aaron; he’s not surprised doing this broke a lot of feelings open in Miles too. He wonders if any of this is what Miles has apparently been keeping from them, but he’s not going to push. 

“Those shots gonna work for your portfolio?” Jefferson asks. 

“Yeah,” Miles says. “I’m gonna come back here every so often and get some more shots. See if anyone tags this or something. I think Uncle Aaron’d think it was funny if someone did.” 

“Serve him right.” 

Miles laughs. “We should get a selfie in front of this before that.” 

“Before we go, definitely.” Jefferson definitely wants to show his therapist their project. 

“Cool.” 

“You know I’m proud of you, right?” Jefferson says, squeezing Miles’ shoulders. . 

“Yeah,” Miles says, smiling, and leans in a little more in an affectionate bump. “You don’t let me forget it. I’m proud of you too, Dad.” 

~ 

As much as he wishes otherwise, Jefferson unfortunately can’t be home every weekend Miles comes home. He has to work through the weekend every now and again, when situations come up at work, an unfortunate fact of adult life. He apologizes, but both Miles and Rio assure him it’s fine. They understand. Just like Jefferson understands when Miles has a big school project eating up his time or Rio has to work the weekend herself. 

“We’ll have mother-son bonding time,” Rio says, kissing Jefferson goodbye that morning. 

Jefferson kisses her forehead. “He’s been kind of quiet lately-” 

“I’ll see if I can’t get him to talk about it,” Rio promises, and pushes him off to work. 

Miles is allowed to be quiet if he wants to be - everyone needs some quiet time to think now and again, and home is probably better than the loudness of high school - but Jefferson can’t help but worry. Even after painting Aaron’s mural together, Miles had carried on more or less as usual afterwards, as amazing and lively as he always was, and it’s been a while since then now. Jefferson has no idea what’s inspired Miles’ subdued thoughtfulness lately. 

Maybe he’s just tired. They all get a little tired sometimes. 

Jefferson resolves to remind Miles that whatever’s weighing his shoulders down doesn’t have to be carried alone. Though he worries, sometimes, that Miles will feel… irritated, undercut, or disrespected by Jefferson accidentally suggesting he  _ can’t  _ handle everything on his own. He doesn’t want Miles to feel stifled. He doesn’t want to push too hard again. 

His worries melt away when he comes home in the evening and he smells one of Rio’s favorite family recipes. He hears the dramatic Spanish coming from the living room and recognizes the music of a terrible telenovela he’s never understood, which Rio and Miles apparently aren’t even watching, even though it looks like the characters are having some sort of dramatic reveal with all that gasping. Rio has her feet up, frowning fiercely at Miles’ old handheld gaming device and jabbing her thumbs at the controls, while Miles holds up his cell phone as a timer in one hand and pumps his other fist in encouragement. 

“Hey, there,” Jefferson says, amused. 

“Not now!” Rio snaps. 

“Hi, Dad,” Miles says, not looking up. “Dodge!  _ Dodge!  _ You’re gonna get caught!” 

_ “You’re  _ gonna get caught,” Rio mumbles. 

Miles ignores her. “Go, go, go!” 

“Oh, well,” Jefferson says loudly. “I see where I’m not wanted!” 

“Yes, go away!” Rio agrees. 

Jefferson goes to take a shower and change out his uniform, listening fondly to the shouting behind him. When he comes back, Miles has the game device held practically against his face and Rio is leaning over his shoulder, both of them intensely focused. On-screen, the telenovela characters are apparently still fighting over the earlier dramatic reveal. Jefferson scoops up the television remote, sits down in the chair, and switches over to the news. 

“Hey,” Rio complains. 

“You weren’t even watching that.” 

“I was! Kinda.” 

“It was a rerun,” Miles says without looking up and Rio looks at him in betrayal. 

The news reporter on-screen finishes talking about some political address and then segways into a follow-up of the fallout from an incident earlier this week. Someone took their ex-spouse hostage on top of a bridge, then tried to commit a murder-suicide by flinging themselves and their ex-spouse off the bridge together. It’s the sort of thing that should be a once-in-a-lifetime dramatic, tragic event, but unfortunately isn’t in a big city. 

The new Spider-Man arrived on-scene too late to stop the jump itself, but the kid fished them both out of the water and got them both to the paramedics and the police. Unfortunately, the ex-spouse died anyway due to internal injuries, while the murderer lived. The media has been eating up the drama of it for days. 

Today, it looks like they sent a reporter to interview the sobbing mother of the victim. 

“Dad, can we not listen to this, please?” 

Miles is frowning at his gaming device, very clearly  _ not  _ looking at the television, with a pained expression. Jefferson doesn’t blame him. It’s bad enough that the media has decided to blast someone’s very real, very recent grief possibly nation-wide for attention, but the clip they’re replaying now has the mother of the victim sobbing about how  _ if only  _ Spider-Man (who’s a  _ kid,  _ not an emergency response team) had been there  _ sooner.  _

Jefferson changes the channel quickly. “Yeah, we don’t need to see that.” 

He’s not really focused on what channel he ends up on, so long as they get off the news, and in a spectacular show of coincidence, the television lands on a hair product commercial featuring a very particular model. Jefferson, not really paying attention, doesn’t really register who the woman is exactly - square jaw, freckles, unbelievably red hair - until she speaks the tagline. Her name appears on-screen in cursive as she winks, underneath the product logo, at the end of the commercial, like a catch-all reminder in case anyone hasn’t yet recognized her. 

It switches to a generic, less barbed car commercial after that. 

“I feel so badly for that Mary Jane Watson,” Rio comments, a few seconds into the noticeable quiet occupying their living room with them. “All people seem to know her as now is ‘Spider-Man’s widow’.” 

“Mm,” Jefferson says, because that’s exactly what he was thinking. 

“Of course, her personal loss is more important than her career…” Rio tacks on awkwardly, clarifying her statement. “It just must not help her grieving that her loss is the first or even only thing anyone knows about her now. And that she’s a public figure. It must be hard.” 

“Yeah,” Jefferson agrees. 

“...How much do you think she knew about the whole thing?” Miles asks. 

From what Jefferson understands, from the uproar and investigations that came out of Parker’s death, from the few widely broadcasted speeches she’s given since her husband’s death, Mary Jane Watson knew about everything. She seemed proud of the fact that she had been secretly married to Spider-Man. She seemed unapologetic about that pride too. 

Not that Jefferson thinks she should be apologetic! It’s well within her rights to be proud of her late husband, who did some very heroic (if inadvisable) things as Spider-Man. It’s just notable because there are certain talking heads who think she should be humbler than she is. 

“I think she knew most of it,” Jefferson offers. 

“It’s hard to hide that sort of thing from someone you share your life with,” Rio says. 

Jefferson wonders if the new kid’s got a Mary Jane Watson in his corner - not a spouse, of course, but a girlfriend or boyfriend who knows everything. A friend of some kind who’s in on it, at least. The kid needs  _ someone  _ looking out for him when he comes home after the lives he was tasked with saving have slipped between his fingers - like Rio is here for Jefferson or like Jefferson is here for his wife. It’s heavy stuff. People need someone in their corner to help them keep their spirits up through heavy work. 

It’s part of why Jefferson goes to therapy. 

But if there is a girlfriend - or boyfriend, of course - she’s probably too young to be dealing with having a superhero for a boyfriend. Just as the kid is too young to be a superhero. Kids shouldn’t have to be handling that kind of thing. Especially not during their first relationships. 

Jefferson turns the television off sooner rather than later. He doesn’t want to turn back to the news and he’s not in the mood for a show. Rio and Miles wrap up whatever competition they were having, of which Miles is declared the victor, then Rio excuses herself to take a shower before bed. Jefferson puts on his reading glasses and gets a laptop to read the news instead, while Miles keeps playing that game, eventually turning upside-down on the couch. 

“...Hey, Dad?” 

“Mm?” 

“Can I ask you a sort of heavy question?” 

Jefferson looks over the laptop screen where Miles is  _ not looking at him  _ again. “Yeah, sure,” he says, and shuts down the computer. “What’s up?” 

“You don’t have to close that-” 

“I’m going to bed soon anyway, Miles. It’s fine. What’s the question?” 

“...How are you supposed to keep on being a good person when you don’t ever get anything out of it?” Miles demands finally. 

_Don’t get angry,_ Jefferson tells himself, because Miles doesn’t need him to be disapproving right now. If he wants his kid to believe that there are no stupid questions, that there’s nothing Miles can’t come to him with, he can’t get angry. It _sounds_ a whole lot like a selfish question, sure, but Jefferson knows that Miles is a good kid. His son looks frustrated and tired. 

“What do you mean?” Jefferson tries. 

Miles mashes his thumbs against the gaming device in his hands. “I mean, like…” He sighs. “I know there’s the whole ‘doing good things is its own reward’ thing, but what are you supposed to do when you try to do good things and they don’t  _ work  _ or everyone  _ hates you  _ for it?” 

“...Can I get an example situation here?” 

Miles doesn’t answer for too long. Jefferson’s gonna have to take that as a  _ no.  _

Jefferson sets the laptop aside. “If I don’t know what exactly happened, I can’t really tell you, Miles,” he says gently. “Good intentions don’t always mean something is a good thing to do, for one thing. Your mother and I have run into a lot of cases like that in our work, where the choices we make to help people don’t always work out, especially if we’re making choices  _ for  _ people.” 

Miles sighs again. “No, that’s not what I mean… it’s just…” 

Jefferson waits. 

“How are you supposed to keep on being a good person if no one seems to notice?” Miles asks, before immediately making a face. “I don’t mean, like, good things aren’t worth it if you don’t get attention for them or that anyone  _ owes  _ you anything for them-” 

“But sometimes you want a little recognition for your efforts?” Jefferson offers. 

“Yeah.” 

“That sounds reasonable.” 

“It does?” 

“Of course. You put the work in, you want it to be worth something. You put the work in, it’s hard when you fail anyway. No one likes having all their hard work dismissed, which has  _ also  _ happened frequently to me and your mother at work. There’s always someone telling us we should have done more.” 

“...How do you deal with it?” 

“We… It’s different for everyone, Miles, how they deal with it. I try to tell myself that I did the best that I could with the knowledge that I had at the time… remembering that I’m only one person who can’t know everything or be everywhere or work around the clock without burning out. Which… yeah, it  _ sucks  _ when I’m the only person someone has, but I can’t be responsible for every piece of bad luck in New York City. I can’t blame myself anymore than I would blame someone else for not doing more.” 

“...Hm.” 

“I hope whatever you’re dealing with right now isn’t that serious, though,” Jefferson says, because high school is definitely not meant to be as life-and-death as law enforcement or medical services. Life’s not always that simple, but Jefferson doesn’t want to imagine Miles having any problems at school that an open conversation and an apology can’t fix. 

Miles still doesn’t open up about whatever pushed him to ask this sort of question. 

“Does that… help?” Jefferson asks. 

Miles’ expression doesn’t have anything to suggest that Jefferson magically fixed every single one of his son’s teenage problems. Jefferson can’t tell what Miles is thinking about. He wonders if maybe Miles isn’t thinking about some personal issue, but about someone else, like maybe Aaron. There are definitely times Aaron would have argued that trying to do the right thing most often brings certain people nothing but grief. 

“Yeah, it helps,” Miles says. 

Jefferson gives him a long look, then says, “You know you can tell me anything, right?” 

Finally, Miles smiles at him. “Yeah, Dad, I know.” 

“Well… good. You know you can come to us for help  _ before  _ you start feeling in over your head, too, right?” 

“I know, Dad.” 

“...Goodnight, Miles.” 

“Goodnight, Dad.” 

~

The next time Miles comes home for the weekend, he spends the first day of it with some of his old school friends, which he messaged them about in advance the week before. Rio goes out to the local specialty foods market with a friend as she planned. Jefferson takes the time to do some errands and household management he’s been putting off for a while. 

The heating bill for this month sends Jefferson on an unplanned hunt through the house for issues with their insulation, because despite what the billing company apparently thinks, he’s not made of money here. Did they decide to start charging exponentially? It’s nuts. 

Usually Jefferson tries to respect Miles’ space and privacy, even if he means well, but he reasons to himself that he’s just going inside Miles’ bedroom to check the window today. He’s checked everywhere else in their home. He’ll be in and out! Won’t look at a thing besides the window! Won’t touch anything! If he needs to do maintenance or something on Miles’ window later, he’ll talk to Miles and they can practice their home ownership skills together. Or Rio and Miles can do it together! Rio’s pretty handy. 

He’s not expecting to find the window  _ unlocked.  _ It’s not noticeably open, just… unlocked. 

“Damn it, Miles.” 

Maybe Miles accidentally left his window open a crack between home visits? That would probably explain it. Jefferson sighs, then he closes the window properly and  _ locks it  _ properly too. Then he goes to search up window insulation on the internet, just in case. 

He means to tell Miles off for the unlocked window at dinner later. 

He forgets. 

He’s an adult with a lot of responsibilities! He can’t remember every detail. 

Jefferson doesn’t remember the window until a few nights later, sometime after three in the morning. He wakes up to the sound of something at a window, a room or a home over, almost quiet enough to pass for just a creak in the night, Something like a pigeon or a rat causing trouble on a window sill, maybe. The chances of it being a  _ person  _ trying to break in are probably too small to worry about. Jefferson hauls himself up to check it out anyway, just in case. 

It sounded like it was coming from Miles’ room. Miles went back to school a few days ago, of course, so Jefferson lets himself in just to peer out the window. He doesn’t see anything outside or anyone on the street. Maybe a pigeon flew into the window pane and then off again? 

Jefferson is ready to go back to bed and forget this ever happened. Instead, he comes face to face with his son. The shock of Miles’ sudden appearance has him taking him a moment to get his thoughts started again. It’s late. He’s tired. Miles is supposed to be at school. 

Miles is clearly just as surprised to see him, wide-eyed and frozen still in the doorway. He’s got heavy bruising on one side of his face, like he got into a fight. 

Miles is wearing a black suit, skin-tight, with a familiar red symbol on his chest. 

Miles is holding a black mask with wide, white eyes. 

Miles is dressed as Spider-Man. 

Miles  _ is-  _

Miles turns on his heel and runs. 


	5. Chapter 5

Jefferson follows too late, too many steps behind, and Miles is out of their home again before he can so much as shout after him. Jefferson is left standing on their front doorstep, not entirely sure how he got there, with Miles nowhere in sight on the street. It feels like a bad dream. 

Jefferson looks and he even calls, but Miles is gone. 

He goes back to his bedroom and sits down carefully. Rio rolls over in her sleep but doesn’t wake up. After a long moment of trying to understand what just happened, Jefferson unplugs his cell phone and leaves the room to call his son without waking his wife. He doesn’t know what he’s going to say if Miles answers. He doesn’t even know what to do when the call rings into voicemail; he just sort of stands there, the voicemail tone prompt echoing in his head. 

“Uh, hey, Miles. It’s your dad. I followed you… out the door… but, uh, I didn’t see you. I… I don’t know what just happened and I don’t want to, uh, assume anything, but, uh, I think we should probably talk about it.” 

There’s no answer. Of course there’s no answer, this is a voicemail. 

But the silence is still something else. 

“I’m not sure if you have your phone on you, so… as soon as you get this, I’d appreciate it if you could call me back maybe. Just let me know you’re alright. Just… we should talk. We’re gonna have to talk about this. I’m not… I’m not gonna make any assumptions about what’s happening right now. Call me when you can. As soon as possible. Okay? I love you.” 

Jefferson feels like he’s spilling his heart out here, but he’s still got everything left to say. His voice sounds strained even to his own ears. 

“Just… call me. Please.” 

He hangs up. 

Then he calls again. There’s no answer and he doesn’t leave a message this time. 

He sends a text.  _ Miles, please call me.  _

Jefferson sits on the living room couch with his head in his hands after that, with no idea what to do, wondering if it’s possible he’s dreaming. Maybe he imagined that whole thing. He doesn’t want to be hallucinating or anything like that - hallucinating would not be a good sign, especially when he’s been working so diligently on his mental health - but it would make more sense than whatever is happening now. He could tell himself it was something like sleepwalking, even though he’s never had a sleepwalking problem before. 

Miles is- 

Miles  _ can’t  _ be Spider-Man. 

Jefferson would have noticed, he’s sure, if his kid had  _ superpowers.  _ Miles couldn’t have hidden something like that all his life. Where would Miles have even  _ gotten  _ superpowers? Jefferson was under the impression that a lot of these people were born with this sort of thing. Neither he nor Rio have superpowers. Why would Miles have superpowers? 

It must be something else. Maybe it was a dare. Maybe it was a costume party. Maybe it was one of those “cosplay” things all the kids are into these days. Miles thinks “cosplay” is cool, right? He sometimes shows Jefferson and Rio pictures of people who dress up in fancy costumes for a hobby, though Jefferson doesn’t always recognize who the people are pretending to be. Maybe the only thing Jefferson is going to have to talk to Miles about here is breaking school curfew and impersonating a dangerous public figure! And at night too! 

Or maybe Miles is secretly making money as one of those Spider-Man street performers who get tourists to cough up money for a souvenir picture together! At… three in the morning… for some reason. Even though Miles shouldn’t need to moonlight for anything. A kid could get killed like that; it’s not worth the risk. 

Miles  _ can’t  _ be Spider-Man. 

How could he possibly be Spider-Man? 

Why would Miles be Spider-Man? 

Except Jefferson remembers the disappearing act… after Parker died. He remembers Miles coming home unexpectedly, before he’d pulled the disappearing act, the night that Parker died. He remembers… oh, God, he remembers the _hug_ after the new Spider-Man fought Kingpin. The sudden _“I love you”_ in the voice that was so obviously, _obviously_ fake. Miles is the right age, has the right body type, lives in the right area… 

Oh, there’s a lot making sense in hindsight now. 

Oh, no. 

The new Spider-Man was there when Aaron was killed. 

Miles was there that day. 

That was  _ Miles.  _


	6. Chapter 6

“Hey, Miles, it’s your dad again. I’m still, uh, waiting to hear from you. I don’t- I hope you’ve made it back to your dorm room okay. I’m… I still don’t want to assume anything before we talk this out, but it’s, uh, hard… not to worry… when you’re not talking to me. I don’t… I haven’t… I haven’t called anyone else yet. Please, Miles, as soon as you get this, call me back. I love you, okay? No matter what happens, I love you, you know that, right? Call me back.” 


	7. Chapter 7

“Hey, Miles. It’s your dad. Again. If your phone’s died or you don’t have it or something, so you’re not hearing these, I get it, but… you don’t have to be scared to call me back, okay? You don’t have to hide. Or run. Whatever’s happening right now, we can talk it out. We can face this as a family. I haven’t… I haven’t told your mother yet, because I don’t know what’s going on and she’s still sleeping, maybe this is all a huge misunderstanding and I’m overreacting, but… Our family doesn’t run from things, Miles, which means your mother and I are always here for you. We love you. Nothing is ever gonna change that. Please, just… call me back.” 


	8. Chapter 8

“Hey, Miles. You… you know who it is. If you don’t call me back or text me or something soon, I’m… I’m gonna call Ganke next. I’m also probably gonna call in sick to work, since I got up so early, and I’m gonna swing by the school to check on you. You don’t… you don’t have to talk to me right away, if you don’t want to - you don’t even have to open the door if you don’t want to - but… at least let me know you’re okay, Miles. Let me know you’re safe.” 


	9. Chapter 9

“I, uh, hey, Miles. I don’t have anything new to say, I just- I just realized that I forgot to say  _ I love you  _ in my last message. I didn’t- I didn’t want that not to be said. I love you. Please call me back.” 


	10. Chapter 10

When Rio wakes up, earlier than usual, Jefferson still hasn’t gone back to sleep and he still doesn’t know what to tell her. He doesn’t tell her that he thinks Miles is the new Spider-Man, even though the evidence seems to be stacking up in favor of the fact their son is a superhero, because what if this whole thing is just a giant misunderstanding? (Jefferson still doesn’t understand how Miles got  _ superpowers.  _ When did Miles get  _ superpowers?  _ How could Miles  _ possibly  _ have gotten superpowers? _ )  _ But he tells her everything else. 

He tells her that Miles came home late last night and booked it when Jefferson saw him. 

He tells her that Miles isn’t answering his phone. Again. 

Jefferson even tells her that he’s not even sure it wasn’t all some stress-induced dream. 

Rio shouts at him for not waking her up anyway. He deserves it. 

She tries to call Miles herself. He doesn’t answer. She leaves a message. 

“Are you taking a day?” she asks him. 

“Yeah, I’m… I was gonna take the day and swing by the school. Oh, I was gonna call his roommate,” Jefferson remembers. He got so caught up in all the little things that point towards his son being  _ Spider-Man  _ that he forgot to call Ganke Lee. 

Oh. He’s just realized Ganke probably knows. 

Oh, Ganke  _ definitely  _ knows. 

Rio is clearly still more than a little pissed off that Jefferson didn’t wake her immediately, but she doesn’t do anything more than say, “You should have woken me up _ immediately,  _ Jeff.” 

Repeatedly. Angrily. With the warning note that they’re gonna talk about this later. 

They call pretty much everyone they know. 

Jefferson starts with Ganke, but Miles’ roommate doesn’t answer, so Jefferson leaves a message. Together, Jefferson and Rio try calling some neighbours and some of Miles’ old friends, asking if Miles swung by last night. They’re vague about it. They get a lot of worried responses and almost as many judgemental responses, after doing pretty much the same thing after Miles’ last little disappearing act, as though some of their neighbors have decided that they’re bad or overbearing parents who either need to step it up or calm the hell down. 

“You calm the hell down!” Rio snaps into her phone at someone, before hanging up. 

They’ve got nothing. 

Rio sits down in the nearest chair and puts her head in her hands. 

“I have to go to work,” she says. “We’re understaffed. I can’t take another personal day. I can try to find someone to cover my shift, but I still have to go  _ in-”  _

She sounds like she’s going to cry. Which makes Jefferson want to cry. 

He should have told her. 

He doesn’t know how to tell her. He doesn’t know  _ what  _ to tell her. 

“He can’t keep doing this to us,” she says. “I don’t  _ understand.  _ Is it the school-?” 

“I’ll find him,” Jefferson promises. 

Jefferson still can’t let go of the hope this is all a mistake. Miles can’t be Spider-Man. Not because he’s not brave enough. Not because he’s not kind enough. Not because he’s not clever enough or tough enough or good enough. Not even because it doesn’t make sense, because it’s making a lot more sense than Jefferson would like, but because… 

Because Jefferson doesn’t know if he can handle it. 

“I’ll find him, Rio,” Jefferson promises again, then goes over to wrap her up in his arms. Rio hides her face in his chest, even though she’s probably still mad at him. She’s right to be mad, but he  _ doesn’t know what to do.  _ “I’ll find out what’s happening and bring him home. I’ll find him.” 

~ 

Rio goes to work after making Jefferson promising to text regularly with updates, even if there are no updates. Rio stresses the fact that she needs to be updated that there are still no updates or she might lose it completely. If Jefferson goes to Visions Academy and finds Miles at school as usual, whether he’s not been answering his phone or his battery is dead, then Jefferson is supposed to call Rio at work immediately and tell her that Miles is safe, and put Miles on the phone for her if possible to prove it. Then Rio can tell him off for worrying them. 

Jefferson takes a personal day and goes straight to Miles’ new school, then up to Miles’ room. School hasn’t started yet. The day is still so young. 

It’s a little too familiar, standing outside Miles’ door like this, not knowing what to say, not knowing what’s gone wrong, not knowing how to keep everything else from falling apart even more. The last time he was standing outside Miles’ door like  _ this,  _ it was… just after Aaron died. Just after Jefferson had realized there was a side of his brother that had been hidden from him, intentionally - that there had been a whole other life that had gotten Aaron killed. 

Miles is- 

It’s too familiar. 

Jefferson swallows his heart and knocks. 

“Uh… who is it?” comes Ganke’s voice, from the other side of the door. 

Jefferson can see the kid’s shadow under the door. Just the one. 

“It’s Jefferson,” he answers. “Miles’ dad.” 

“Oh…” 

“Ganke, can we talk?” 

“I, um-” 

“Ganke, please,” Jefferson says, exhausted. “Open the door.” 

Very slowly, the door opens. Ganke Lee peers out at him, wearing a t-shirt and pyjama pants, hair messed up like he just woke up or like he’s been pulling at it. He looks… guilty. 

“Miles isn’t here,” Ganke says. 

“I… I’m looking for him. Do you know where he is?’ 

“No, sorry.” 

Jefferson doesn’t know his son’s friend well enough to tell if he’s lying. “Miles came home last night, but left again in a hurry. Have you seen him? Heard from him? His mother and I are worried. We don’t know where he is.” 

Ganke shakes his head. “No, sorry. He… never came back last night.” 

“But he was here yesterday?” 

“Yeah,” Ganke hedges. 

“When did he go out last night? What time?” Jefferson presses. 

Ganke shrugs, looking sorry about that too. 

Jefferson sighs. “Ganke, I know,” he says. “I know about the… mask.” 

Ganke freezes. 

“Can I come in?” Jefferson would rather not have this conversion in the hallway. 

Hesitantly, Ganke nods and lets him inside. Jefferson closes the door behind him and then sits down on Miles’ bed, because he doesn’t want to tower over this poor kid, who looks on the edge of panicking. If he had any lingering doubts about Ganke being in on it, they’re gone now. 

When he was hoping that the new Spider-Man had  _ someone,  _ he’d really hoped it was someone more than another kid. Ganke and Miles are too young for this. 

“You’re not in trouble,” Jefferson says finally. “I just want to know where my son is.” 

The kid shakes his head, falling back almost helplessly onto his own bed. “I don’t know where he is, Mr. Davis. He never came back here last night. And he left his phone here. I, um, I’m sorry I didn’t answer your call! But I saw your texts! And you kept calling Miles’ phone! So, I, um, listened to the voicemails in case there was an emergency! And then I sort of guessed what was happening and I didn’t know what to do, because-” 

“Hey, breathe,” Jefferson tells him. “It’s okay.” It’s not, but that’s what you say to a panicking kid when you’re the adult in the room. “It’s okay, but next time, if there is a next time, please answer the phone, because it really could be an emergency.” 

It  _ is  _ an emergency, actually, as Jefferson sees it. 

Ganke nods, breathing heavily, and Jefferson decides not to tell the poor kid off for going through Miles’ phone, though he’s not really glad to hear Ganke heard all those messages. It’s not his place. Something was clearly going on. Jefferson assumes Ganke made some sort of promise not to tell anyone about Miles’ secret, especially not himself and Rio. He’s been thinking about it all the way here and there’s no point in getting angry right now. 

Man, Jefferson hopes there is  _ not  _ a next time. 

“We’re gonna have to talk about… the things Miles was doing with you, but… that’ll happen after we talk to Miles,” Jefferson says calmly, because he’s the adult here. “Right now, we just want to find him and make sure he’s alright. Do you have any idea where he might be?” 

Ganke shakes his head. “No.” 

“Do you know if there’s anyone else who knows?” 

It occurred to Jefferson before that Miles’ other friends could have been lying about him not being there - they might’ve been covering for him - but it hasn’t occurred to him until now that Miles’ other friends might know too. Jefferson hopes there isn’t a small army of teenagers out there who all know that his son is the new Spider-Man. He really hopes that’s not the case. 

“He said I’m the only person who knows,” Ganke admits, which is a relief. At least, until the kid says, “The only normal person.” 

“Normal person?” Jefferson repeats. 

“He said there are other Spider-People? In other universes? They accidentally got brought to our universe for awhile because of the Alchemax supercollider? But they’re not here anymore. He said they went back to their own universes.” 

Jefferson… isn’t sure where to get started with that. That explains some things. 

It brings up a whole lot of questions, of course, but it explains some things. 

“And…” Ganke begins, before trailing off. 

“And?” Jefferson prompts. 

“I think there’s someone else, but I’m not sure! It’s just a guess!” Ganke says, then goes over to one of the desk drawers and pulls out something that looks like a broken, ugly watch. “This is a web-shooter, right? He uses them for swinging around the city. He said they used to belong to the old Spider-Man before he died.” 

Parker  _ knew?  _ Miles  _ knew  _ Parker? 

“...Okay,” Jefferson says instead, because those questions aren’t important right now. 

“But Miles broke this one awhile back,” Ganke explains, like he’s been waiting to share this with someone for some time now. “He’s been fixing it. But he went and got a back-up pair from somewhere? And he had to get the blueprints to fix them from somewhere too. So… there’s gotta be someone else, right? Someone who-” 

“-knew the old Spider-Man,” Jefferson finishes, standing up. 

“Um, yeah,” Ganke says, remembering himself. He quickly puts the broken “web-shooter” back in the desk drawer he took it from. “The old Spider-Man was a really smart guy, but he probably had a tech guy, right? Besides that, I don’t think anyone else knows, though! About Miles! He’s really careful about keeping it a secret!” 

Not from Jefferson’s perspective. Not anymore. 

“Thank you, Ganke,” he says, because this gives him a start. 

Ganke is right; Miles  _ must  _ have a benefactor here. Miles must have gotten this technology from the old Spider-Man, since the new Spider-Man’s web-slinging is apparently identical to Parker’s. He must have gotten the  _ suit  _ from somewhere. Miles is a clever kid, but he shouldn’t know how to make these things, just like he shouldn’t have superpowers. 

_ Someone _ must have given him these things. 

“Um, sure,” Ganke says. “I, um, I hope you find him.” 

“Thanks.” 

Jefferson turns to go, but before he can open the door, Ganke says, “He’s a really good Spider-Man, you know!” 

Jefferson turns around, feeling wrongfooted. “What?” 

“He’s a really good Spider-Man,” the kid repeats, looking embarrassed. 

“Uh…” 

“He’s helping people,” Ganke insists. “He’s just… He’s doing his best, you know?” 

_ He’s going to get himself killed,  _ Jefferson doesn’t reply. 

“I know,” he says instead, because he doesn’t know what else to say. “Thanks, Ganke.” 

He’s going to need to have a much longer talk with this kid later. 

_ After  _ he finds Miles. 

Jefferson texts Rio that he talked to Ganke, that Ganke hasn’t seen or heard from Miles, that Miles left his phone in his room, and that Ganke gave him a few suggestions for where Miles might be that he’s going to follow up on. 

He doesn’t get a reply. Understandable. Rio is at work after all. 

Ganke’s hunch is pretty much the only lead Jefferson has right now and it seems like a pretty good one. If Miles is afraid or upset that his parents have found out about what he’s been doing, then hiding with people who have been in on the Spider-Man secret for up to a decade probably makes sense to him. Jefferson now has to figure out who was in-the-know when it comes to Parker’s secret, find them, and ask them questions without giving away that his son is the new Spider-Man in case they are  _ not  _ in-the-know. 

The first person that comes to mind is Mary Jane Watson. 

But something about that doesn’t sit right. Ms. Watson is a pretty public figure - she’s a celebrity - and she’s been pretty insistent that she doesn’t know this new Spider-Man. Miles wouldn’t get much of a hiding place with one of the most recognizable women in the city, would he? Jefferson doesn’t know where to begin to get in contact with the late Spider-Man’s widow anyway, who’s probably not taking random callers right now or ever. 

Maybe Ganke is right that there was a “tech guy” involved somewhere in all this, but Jefferson doesn’t know where to begin identifying them. Parker had his “web-shooters” for a long time, so it has to be someone who knew Parker from the time he was a teenager-

_ Oh,  _ Jefferson thinks, feeling like this should have been obvious.  _ Of course.  _

If there’s one person in the world who knows what to do - one person who has any idea what to do - when the teenage boy you’ve raised turns out to be Spider-Man… 

Jefferson goes to Queens. 

~ 

Jefferson doesn’t know May Parker. 

They’ve never met. 

Never spoken. 

He only knows  _ of  _ her. 

He knocks on her front door with no idea what to say. 

If Miles really is the new Spider-Man - if this isn’t a hilariously ridiculous misunderstanding on Jefferson’s part due to a series of unlikely coincidences, if Miles isn’t lying to his roommate to cover up his cosplay street performer side-job by pretending to be an actual superhero - then he could be anywhere in the city right now. Miles could be sitting on top of the Empire State Building. Miles could be on top of a bridge. Miles could be hiding behind an air conditioner on top of a random apartment building in New Jersey for all Jefferson knows. 

There’s no real reason for him to come to Parker’s aunt’s place in Queens. 

But hopefully Jefferson can still find some answers here, even if he doesn’t know what to say yet. He’s got a lot of questions, but every time he tries to figure out which one to start with, he forgets every question he’s ever wanted to ask. 

He still wants to be wrong. 

May Parker opens the front door. _ She looks tired, _ Jefferson thinks before he can help it,  _ and unimpressed. _ Like she’s had enough unsolicited, unwelcome people knocking on her door to last her the rest of her life. Like she’s out of spare hospitality. 

“Can I help you?” she says anyway. 

“Mrs. May Parker?” Jefferson confirms, just in case. 

“Yes.” 

“My name is Jefferson Davis,” he says, which doesn’t get him any recognition. “I’m looking for my son, Miles,” he says next, which  _ does  _ get him a reaction. “Miles Morales.” 

It’s not an obvious reaction, but it happens on the beat when Jefferson says  _ Miles.  _ Not when Jefferson announces that he’s looking for his son, which would invoke pity in pretty much anyone, but the shift from sympathy to surprise happens on the specific beat that Jefferson says,  _ “Miles. Miles Morales.”  _

Which makes him think May Parker, aunt to the late Peter Parker, may have lied to the authorities when they asked her if she knew the new Spider-Man. 

Which makes him  _ hope  _ that May Parker lied to the authorities. 

“Is he here?” Jefferson tries. 

May Parker looks him in the eye, with a new piercing sort of look, and says, “He is.” 

The relief at those two words alone is nearly bone-melting. 

“...Can I see him?” 

“I don’t think it’s my place to keep you from him,” May Parker says softly. “Come in, please.” 

Jefferson comes inside, takes off his shoes, and follows his host to the kitchen. The house is nice, very modest, but it looks like there are some recent repairs and some renovations that are still ongoing. Quite a lot of them. Jefferson unfortunately, silently, connects the lingering damages to the attack on May Parker’s house which had ended in his brother’s death. 

He knows  _ of  _ May Parker the same way he thinks she probably knows  _ of  _ him. 

“Miles told me a little of what happened last night,” she says, puttering around the kitchen as people do. “Please, sit. Can I get you something to drink? Coffee? Water?” 

Jefferson sits at the table. “No, thank you.” 

May Parker sighs, then closes the kitchen cabinet, picks up a coffee mug, and comes to sit down across from him. “I told him it was bound to happen sooner or later, and that running away wasn’t going to solve anything,” she says, matter-of-factly. “I wasn’t trying to overstep when I told him he could come here if he ever needed somewhere to go. Here seemed better than brooding alone on top of the Statue of Liberty or something.” 

“I’m… glad that Miles had a place to go,” Jefferson says, though he doesn’t know how to feel about this woman stepping into his son’s life as an authority figure. (As a  _ parental  _ figure?) “I was worried he might be… camped on top of a skyscraper or something.” 

It sounds a little ridiculous alone, but May Parker just nods understandingly. 

Neither of them speak for many long seconds of silence. 

“...You can’t stop him,” May Parker says finally. “Not completely. He’s got the powers now and they’re not going away, and he’s got it in his head that he’s got to do something with them. That it’s his job now.” 

“He’s a kid,” Jefferson says. 

“They grow up faster than you think,” May Parker returns tiredly. “He’s making choices now and he’ll be able to back them up with adulthood before you know it. I’m not telling you to  _ let this all go,  _ I just… want to warn you… with the voice of experience… that if you’re going to make ultimatums to get him to stop what he’s doing, then it’s going to get ugly.” 

That punctured some of the furious indignation - the  _ “who the hell are you to tell me how to parent my son”  _ \- right out of Jefferson’s chest. It set him back enough for him to take a second look at the sympathetic exhaustion on May Parker’s face. She looks like she’s been up half-the-night too - and she probably was, depending on what time Miles got here. 

What was it that he’d thought not so long ago on his way here? 

_ If there was anyone in the world who knew what to do when the teenage boy you’ve raised turns out to be Spider-Man… it was May Parker.  _

“Don’t say anything you can’t take back, because you won’t be able to take it back,” she says. “If you care, let him talk. And listen to what he says.” 

“...Right.” 

Even knowing that May Parker speaks with the voice of experience, however, doesn’t stop Jefferson from wishing that all of this could stop. He still wants to go back to the reality he’d thought he was living, in which his son isn’t Spider-Man. 

“He’s upstairs right now,” May Parker says finally, “in Peter’s old room. I’ll go get him.” 

~ 

Jefferson can hear May Parker’s voice after she heads upstairs, calling,  _ “Miles? Miles, your father is here-”  _ Before her voice lowers and his straining ears can’t keep up. 

When Miles comes down into the living room, where May Parker left Jefferson to wait, he’s wearing someone else’s clothes instead of the spider suit. They’re too big on him, the jeans and sleeves rolled up. Jefferson wonders in the back of his mind, in a stunned kind of way, if they’re Parker’s old clothes. But more important than clothes is Miles’ expression, which looks exhausted and anxious… or, depending on how you look at it, maybe even afraid. 

Jefferson hates that look. 

He can’t say, after what happened in that alley that day, he doesn’t deserve that look. He treated his own son like a criminal. Like a killer. Even if only briefly. He hates that too. 

“I’ll leave you two to talk,” May Parker says gently. 

Neither Jefferson nor Miles say anything until they hear the back door close behind May Parker. Where do they even begin? The bruising on Miles’ face from last night is already gone, which is both reassuring and worrying. 

“Hey, Miles.” 

“...Hi, Dad.” 

Jefferson can’t stand this. “Can I hug you?” 

“What?” 

“Can I hug you?” Jefferson repeats, spreading his arms a little for emphasis. “Please?” 

Miles has to think about it, which hurts, but he doesn’t think about it for very long before throwing himself into Jefferson’s arms. It’s like being hit by a small brick wall. Jefferson wraps his arms around his son and squeezes. Miles squeezes back, with a touch of that new strength of his, and a part of Jefferson can’t believe he didn’t realize it was Miles from the moment the new Spider-Man hugged him. He’d written it off as just a kid bubbling with victory and post-crisis excitement. 

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” Jefferson says into Miles’ hair. “Don’t run away like that. Please.” 

“Sorry,” Miles says, his voice muffled against Jefferson’s chest. 

Unfortunately, they can’t hug forever. They’ve got to actually talk sooner or later. 

“So…” Jefferson begins. “Spider-Man.” 

Miles laughs, a forced sound, and pulls back. “Yeah,” he says. “Spider-Man.” 

Jefferson sits in the nearest chair and, after a few seconds, Miles follows his example. Miles isn’t really meeting his eyes. He’s _trying,_ though. Miles will meet Jefferson’s eyes, determinedly, and then look away again quickly, like he can’t help it. Like he’s afraid of being burned. 

Jefferson’s afraid of burning him, he’s so angry and lost right now. 

“...When did that happen?” Jefferson asks. 

“The night before Peter Parker died,” Miles answers. “I… Uncle Aaron took me to a tunnel to put up a piece and I was bitten by a spider.” 

“A spider?” 

“Yeah, there was something special about it? I… Apparently, it’s normal?” 

“Normal.” 

Miles shrugs, smiling slightly, clearly aware of how ridiculous this all sounds. “It’s what happened to Peter Parker. I woke up the next morning and… I had superpowers.” 

“Okay,” Jefferson says, because there’s really nothing else to say. 

At least Parker didn’t…  _ intentionally  _ give away his superpowers to his son. If Parker had  _ intentionally  _ chosen Miles, Jefferson doesn’t know that he’d be able to keep a lid on what he’s feeling right now. Parker didn’t randomly sweep Jefferson’s son off the street to make him the sidekick to his superhero either. 

Jefferson ignores the artwork aspect of it in favor of focusing on Aaron’s involvement. 

_ “Aaron  _ took you there?” 

Miles nods, smile falling. “I, uh, I went back the next night. To try to figure out what happened and, uh, the tunnel actually led to Kingpin’s supercollider. I guess… Uncle Aaron knew about it because of his work. I… I know I shouldn’t have gone exploring, but… I dunno, when I got my powers, I got this  _ feeling  _ and sometimes I just… I had to follow it.” 

Jefferson doesn’t know what to be horrified by most. 

_ Miles  _ accidentally stumbling onto one of the Kingpin’s operations… or… 

“You were there when Parker died.” 

Miles’ shoulders slump. “When Kingpin killed him,” he corrects miserably. “He saved me just before that. He recognized I had powers somehow and he said he’d help me… but he had to destroy the supercollider first… and then Kingpin killed him.” 

The rest of the horrifying story tumbles out after that, in painful, succinct, out-of-order fragments that are difficult to keep completely straight. Jefferson takes Miles’ hands in his early on and just… holds them. There’s a lot here that he’s clearly missing - a  _ lot  _ that Miles is clearly skipping over, both intentionally and not. There’s a lot here that he doesn’t really understand, especially the Spider-People from alternate universes, which explains a lot but still doesn’t really make sense to him. But it all sounds like Miles has been needing to say it for a long while now, so Jefferson listens to Miles confess that his disappearing act had been to stop Kingpin. 

He’s got to listen. He  _ forces  _ himself to listen. Not speak.  _ Listen.  _

It’s one of the hardest things he’s ever done. 

Parker had died leaving Miles with superpowers he didn’t understand and feeling responsible for what Kingpin was doing. Another Parker from an alternate universe had shown up and they’d gone places and done things to stop Kingpin, gathering more Spider-People along the way. What makes it painful at first is that Miles was clearly  _ scared  _ and  _ in danger -  _ he was scared and  _ putting himself  _ in danger - and  _ Jefferson didn’t know.  _

And then they get to Aaron. 

Miles hadn’t known that his uncle was working for Kingpin. He’d found out by accident. Aaron hadn’t known that Miles was involved in any of this until the attack on May Parker’s house, when he’d caught Miles and pulled off Miles’ mask. Then he’d pulled off his own mask. 

And Kingpin had killed him too, because he couldn’t kill Miles. 

Jefferson, unfortunately, knows what happened to Aaron from there. 

He was there for that bit. 

_ So was Miles.  _ Jefferson can’t get over that.  _ Miles was there.  _ He was  _ there.  _

That was him. It was  _ him.  _

“It feels like my fault,” Miles says through tears. “I know it’s not my fault that Uncle Aaron chose to work for Kingpin. I know it’s not my fault that Kingpin shot him. But it still  _ feels like my fault.”  _

Jefferson, who started crying before his son did, wraps Miles up in another hug without asking. Miles clings even more tightly to him than before. The rest of the story, a summarized version of it, comes out after that. Miles put on a suit and became the new Spider-Man to save his city, avenge his uncle, and uphold the legacy Parker had left behind. It had been  _ Miles  _ who Jefferson watched fight for his life that night. It had been  _ Miles  _ who took down the Kingpin. 

When his city - his world, his  _ home  _ \- was threatened, Miles stood up and fought it. When he kept getting knocked down and knocked back, Miles got back up again. When Parker’s death left an empty space for a hero, Miles stepped into it, even though the weight of something like that never should have fallen on his shoulders to begin with, and he did amazingly. 

Jefferson’s son is a superhero. Miles is a hero. 

“I’m so proud of you,” Jefferson says, when it seems like Miles is done. 

Miles sobs into his chest. 

“I’m so  _ proud  _ of you,” Jefferson repeats, because he is. He’s so proud (and scared and  _ angry _ ) it feels like he can barely breathe with it, though that might be Miles’ arms around his chest again. “I can’t say… I can’t say I’m  _ happy  _ about any of this. I can’t say I  _ approve  _ of you throwing yourself into danger like this, when it’s my job to look after you. But I’m so proud of you, Miles, of this spark inside of you. I’m so proud to be your dad.” 

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I couldn’t… I couldn’t.” 

“It’s okay,” Jefferson says, though it’s not. “You had… a lot going on.” 

Are there therapists who treat superheroes? It was hard enough finding a black therapist Jefferson felt comfortable speaking with. Who does Jefferson call to start asking about finding the right therapist for a teenage superhero? Are there people who specialize in that? How do you talk a kid down off  _ that  _ ledge? 

“We’re going to have to talk about this,” Jefferson says, after a while. 

Miles takes a deep breath. “I know.” 

“As a family.” 

“I know.” 

“I haven’t told your mother yet. I… I told her you came home last night, that you ran, and I’ve told her I found you and where we are, but… well, earlier I’d hoped I was wrong about what I thought I saw. I didn’t want to be throwing around strange accusations without an explanation. Now I think you should tell her yourself.” 

“Yeah. Probably,” Miles says quietly. 

“You  _ are  _ gonna tell her,” Jefferson insists. “I can’t keep this from her, Miles. I won’t.” 

He has no idea what Rio’s gonna say to both of them, but she can’t be kept out of it. If talking about this tears their family apart, if this is how they fall apart, she can’t not know what’s going on. They have to go tell Rio. 

“Yeah. I know,” Miles says. 

“No more disappearing acts. From now on, we talk about these things, as a family. Or, look, even if you don’t want to talk about these things - about anything in your life - right away, Miles, we can’t keep not knowing where you are. Now that I know about… this… I’m going to worry when you disappear on us, Miles. I’m going to think the worst.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

Jefferson would  _ really  _ like Miles to say,  _ “I won’t do it again.”  _ But he doesn’t. 

Jefferson tells himself he can’t  _ force  _ Miles to say it. 

He really wants to, though. 

“...How’d you find me?” Miles asks. 

“Your friend Ganke said you had to have gotten your ‘web-shooters’ from somewhere. I guessed the rest from there. You think your old man can’t do a little detective work?” Jefferson tries for a lighthearted tone, but it still sounds strained even to him. 

“Ganke told you?” 

“As soon as I knew, I knew he had to know too.” 

“Ha, yeah, I guess. He was… kind of there when all this was happening, so…” 

Miles didn’t really have a choice about telling his roommate. That still doesn’t change the fact that Miles has been making the choice, over and over, not to tell Jefferson and Rio that he got superpowers from a spider bite and he’s decided to become a superhero. 

“What… what happens now?” Miles asks. 

“We go home,” Jefferson answers, “and we talk to your mother.” 

“...And then what?” 

“We talk about this as a family,” Jefferson says again. 

“...Alright.” 

It’s not going to be a good talk, probably. Miles knows it too. 

“...I love you. I can’t say that I’m okay with this,” Jefferson says finally, because his issues with Spider-Man didn’t go away just because the new one is a kid. They’re definitely not going away now that he’s found out it’s  _ his  _ kid. 

He doesn’t want Miles being thrown into cars by supervillains whether or not he can take the hit. This shouldn’t be on Miles. 

It shouldn’t be any child’s job to save the world.

“I can’t say I want you doing this or that I don’t want you to stop putting yourself on the front lines of a fight you shouldn’t have to take on. But this doesn’t change the fact that I love you, alright? Nothing that happens from here on out is gonna change that.” 

“Yeah,” Miles says quietly. “I know, Dad. You’ve said that already. A lot.” 

“It’s important.” 

Miles laughs, quietly and wetly. “I know,” he says. Then adds, even more quietly, maybe a little strained, “I love you too.” 

“You don’t have to say it back,” Jefferson reminds him. 

“I want to. It’s important.” 

Jefferson huffs, rubbing a hand up and down his son’s back. To think, he just wanted his kid to be okay, completely oblivious to the fact that Miles had taken it upon himself to save the city from missing its friendly neighborhood Spider-Man. He was worried Miles had too much to handle with  _ school,  _ but Miles has been out there saving lives in his spare time. It doesn’t make Jefferson think that Miles doesn’t still need help, because  _ he shouldn’t be doing that, _ people’s lives shouldn’t be on Jefferson’s  _ high-schooler,  _ but it’s still amazing. 

They raised a good kid, him and Rio. Maybe a little too good. Jefferson doesn’t know how he’s going to trust Miles to be looking after himself from here on out - doesn’t know how he’s going to be able to let his son out of his sight - now that he knows Miles has been hiding a secret this big from him. They’ve got a lot to figure out from here. So much. It’s going to take a lot of trust on both sides. 

“You really are the best of all of us, Miles,” Jefferson sighs. 

Miles stiffens a little, before he relaxes again and mumbles, “I had good role models.” 

Which makes Jefferson’s chest tight with pride and love. 

_ Yeah, Miles is going to be okay, _ he thinks like a prayer. Whatever happens from here on out, whatever mistakes they make, Miles is going to make it.  _ He’s the best of all of us, after all. _ Just like Aaron used to say. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: What do people want to experience in their fiction? Anxiety? Painful anxiety? The painful anxiety of leaving voicemails and waiting for someone to call you back? 
> 
> Anyway, thank you for reading this fic! Sorry-not-sorry if you don't enjoy cliffhangers, but I figured that I was only making people wait an extra 3-4 hours for the end of this fic, and formatting adventures are fun. (I did have fun for the real-time reactions, so thank you very much for indulging me.) 
> 
> I have difficult imagining any parent being immediately fully okay with their 15/16yo flinging themselves into danger like this, so now they're going to go home, Rio is going to wrap her son up in a BIG HUG, and they're going to talk about it like a family. They're going to work it out somehow.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is complete and will be updated daily until completion. There are **5 main chapters** and the fic is around 25k long. It'll be completed on July 8th, 2020. 
> 
> Tumblr [post to rec and reblog.](https://lullabyknell.tumblr.com/post/622725229903560704/fightin-for-my-trust-and-you-wont-back-down-a) <3


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